The Meaning of Love
by Winds of Autumn
Summary: After the Final Battle, Death Eaters deal one final act of horror, which will affect one member of the Trio horribly. Will the consequences of the act will wreak havoc on the Trio as we know it? Or will the three friends grow stronger?Bad summary just rea
1. Secrets and Memories

Authors Note; I do NOT own Harry Potter-- J.K. Rowling does. This is my first Harry Potter fic, and so far, I am quite proud of it. Lost and Found Love will be on hold for now. I have ran out of inspiration for it, sadly. Anyhow, enjoy the first chapter, and please review with your comments.

This will be a Harry/Hermione, Ron/Luna, and Ginny/Dean fic. Although I hate Ginny with a burning passion, I also respect J.K. Rowling and Ginny's importance to a plot.

_The Meaning of Love_

_Secrets and Memories_

_Winds of Autumn_

So much had happened in the past year. It was an amazing feat to sit back and go over it all, seeing what could have been done better and what had been complete mistakes. And yet, the most brilliant witch of the age did so, her knees pulled up to her chest as she lounged beneath a tree beside the great lake. She couldn't help but think about how close they had come to not succeeding, more than once. How close they had come to demise.

She remembered her fallen comrades, knowing in her heart that she could have followed them. Remembering how much worse it had been than death. Remembering, always remembering. Bittersweet memories, a mixture of the horrible and the special.

"Hermione?" Looking up, the brown haired witch smiled, patting the seat next to her. Neither of her two best friends knew, and she had no intentions of them knowing.

"Hey Harry," she said softly, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. Harry had tried so hard, done things that she had thought impossible out of the boy, all to save --quite literally-- the world. He looked so much more burdened than he had before the final battle. She had honestly thought that perhaps after the threat of Voldemort had been wiped away that he would be more... Free. But she couldn't deny the facts, staring back at her from Harry's emerald eyes.

He blamed himself for all of it. The deaths that had been dealt in the final battle, the deaths that had torn him and others apart in the attempt to draw Voldemort out into the open, the deaths of so many innocent people, all reaching for a common goal. Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, Fred Weasley, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Lily and James Potter (Harry's own parents, for goodness sake!), Neville Longbottom's parents, Alastor Moody, and so many more nameless fellow Hogwartians that had fought beside them.

Hermione offered him a small smile, knowing that there was something on his mind. She could read him as easilly, if not more so, than she did the words in her favorite books. "What is it, Harry?" she asked softly, reaching to take his hand. Lacing their fingers together, she kept her grip light, knowing that he often paced when upset or bothered, knowing that he often gestured in such a mood. To hold his hand any tighter would restrict him from something that was as natural to him as breathing.

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his messy raven hair, displacing the ordinarilly untamable locks even moreso than usual. Squeezing Hermione's hand back lightly, his gaze surveyed the school grounds. After the battle, it had taken months, even with magic, to clear the wreckage. How could he come back here? The new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, had invited all those students that hadn't returned for their seventh year back, to complete their seventh year. It would be the largest seventh year class in history, with the original sixth years being seventh years this year, along with whatever students that hadn't graduated.

Seeing Hermione tilt her head from the corner of his eye, he closed them and dragged in a deep breath. "I don't know if I can come back," he said raggedly. "Everytime I look out here, I'll see it again. See their scared faces, the curses flying back and forth, the death and destruction." Blinking the stinging tears from his eyes, he dropped Hermione's hand, pushing up to stand. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he stared blankly into the Forbidden Forest on the edge of the grounds. How many times had they been there, the Trio, so close to possible horrendous consequences, and came out alive, teeming with the adventure they'd had? But they'd always managed to come out alive, whether by some stroke of brilliance from Hermione or himself, or just plain luck.

"Harry," she said softly, standing beside him, her heart quite literally breaking in her chest for the pain she saw written on his features, embedded in his very soul. "Listen to me." Framing his face with her hands, she made him look at her. What she saw there terrified her. "You saved millions of people, Harry. Those who fought beside us, they knew what they were against, they knew that there was a chance they could die. And they still fought, they died valiantly. You're their savior, Harry. You're the reason they can face the future, knowing there's no more Voldemort to fear."

Blinking, rendered useless in the face of Hermione's passionate declarations, Harry nodded slowly, lifting his hands to her wrists. They felt so tiny in his grasp, suddenly reminding him that this was 'Mione. _His _'Mione. She was a woman now, not just an enigma that was his best friend. Biting the inside of his lip, he slid his hands up her arms, over the bend of her elbows, to her shoulders, and finally up to her face, cupping her jaw softly as she was doing to him.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. His lips lingered there for a long moment, and he knew that she noticed. She had stiffened, braced to pull back, but he beat her to it. "Don't stay out here too long. Molly wants us all back at the Burrow before dinner." Dropping his hands, shoving them back into his pockets, he headed back toward the school. Ginny and Ron were inside, putting the finishing touches on some of the destroyed interior, trying to get it back to rights before the start of term.

Hermione smiled sadly, watching Harry go. Watched him go back to Ginny, who came out to meet him on the steps, wrapping him in a tight hug and leading him inside. Sighing, Hermione sank back to the grass, leaning back against the tree. Sometimes, she wished that she could simply drift into nothingness and simply forget it all. Forget the secrets, the pain, the love.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them again, her gaze straying around the summer colors that adorned the world in late July. She loved autumn the most, the beautiful colors, the chilly weather. Not too cold, but not too warm. In the beginning, she had been crazy about Ronald because of his hair. It reminded her so much of her favorite season that she couldn't help but be drawn to him because of it. In her first through third year, she had believed it had been a trick of fate, a slight sign to show her the right one for her. Yet, as she grew older, she'd realized that it wasn't. She didn't have feelings for Ron other than the best friend feelings that she'd shared with Harry for so long.

Only, her feelings for Harry had changed somewhere during their fourth year. Maybe it had been watching him during the Triwizard Tournament, seeing him triumph in the face of such spectacular odds. Maybe it had been their close friendship. Maybe it had been there all along and it had taken that long to finally realize it.

She'd never voice her feelings. Never. She'd take them to the grave with her. Harry was happy with Ginny, escatic when they had gotten back together the week after the final battle. She couldn't tell him and put more shadows in his eyes.

Sighing, Hermione stood, dusting the grass and dirt from her fadded Muggle jeans, she tugged the light sweater closer, zipping it up and ducking her head as she trudged back up to the school. Pausing before she'd reached the large doors leading into the Great Hall, she changed direction, heading instead to Hagrid's hut. She knew he was there. She could see the smoke billowing up against the clear sky from his chimney.

Knocking lightly on the door, Hermione waited a beat, waiting for Hagrid's "Come in" before slipping inside, closing the door behind her and pushing Fang down before the massive beast could slober all over her.

"'Mione!" Hagrid beamed, looking up from the small creature he'd been caring for. Hermione hesitated a moment, hoping against all odds that it wasn't another baby dragon, or worse, a blast-end-screwt. Hagrid saw her hesitation and chuckled. "Jus' a baby owl," he said, nodding his head for her to have a seat. As she moved forward to take a seat, Hagrid sighed.

"Have you ever wondered how things might have been different?" she wondered quietly, her eyes unfocused as she dazed out the window. 

"I s'pose so," he answered, studying her. She hadn't been the same Hermione since the battle, and Minerva had told him why when he'd asked. Hermione knew that he knew, but had never confessed it to him. George knew; he'd found her. Molly knew, she'd helped the girl. "Why ya askin'? Got somethin' on yer mind?"

Hermione sighed, bringing her dark gaze to her beloved Hargid's face. He'd always been there for the Trio, intentionally or not. "I just wonder, sometimes, if things had been different... then maybe people wouldn't have suffered so much, you know?" Hagrid fought back a smile. His Hermione, always thinking of others and how to remedy their pain. Especially Harry. He wondered how the dense boy could keep from seeing it.

"I know. But, sometimes things ar'nt as easy as they seem. Where ya could see yerself doin' one thing, another person couldn't. Tis jus' the way of things." Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. "Ye need to tell them."

Hermione's head jerked up, her eyes clashing with Hagrids. They'd never discussed it, but she's always thought that he would leave it be. "I can't, Hagrid. It would tear them both apart." Biting her lip, she blinked against the sting of tears. Damn, how she wanted to tell them. How she wanted their comfort. She just... couldn't tell them. It was enough, with Molly and George constantly pulling her aside to see how she was. She didn't need her boys to give up their lives to constatly protect her. It was her mistake, and she'd live with it.

Hagrid nodded slowly, reaching across the table to take her hand. Squeezing gently, he let her know that whatever she decided, he'd be behind her. Smiling, she turned the conversation toward the infant owl in Hagrid's care. After finding that the tiny owl was to be a gift to Harry for the deceased Hedwig, Hermione reluctantly left.

Meeting Ginny, Ron, and Harry in the Great Hall, Hermione stayed silent as they trooped up to the Headmistress's office, intent on flooing to the Burrow. Ron currently wasn't speaking to her (product of a stupid arguement over Krum) and Ginny was acting colder than usual toward her. Hermione had started taking long walks, sometimes with George, and sometimes alone, to avoid the tense air the permeated the bedroom in the Burrow that she shared with the red-haired girl.

George and her had actually bonded. They were good friends now, sharing secrets with eachother that, in current lights, they felt they couldn't share with anyone else. Hermione held George when he cried, missing Fred terribly. George held Hermione when she relived the nightmares.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder, she blinked from her thoughts as McGonagall shackled her wrist. "Do you mind? I'd like a word with you," she said, a slight tilt to her eyebrows. Frowning, Hermione dropped the powder back into the sack, standing back to watch Ginny and Ron floo back to the Burrow.

"Need me to stay behind, 'Mione?" Harry asked, leaning close to her ear from behind. Hermione drew in a sharp breath, hoping he didn't notice.

"Thanks, Harry. But I think I'm fine." Stepping away from him, Hermione offered a smile. Harry nodded slowly, then grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the flames. Tossing the powder down, he loudly declared his destination. Turning back to McGonagall, Hermione crossed her arms over her ribs. Biting her lip nervously, she took a seat when she was motioned to.

"Now, Miss Granger, I regret to inform you that your... attackers have not been found." Pausing, Minerva let the news sink in before continuing. "However, many of the Order members are after them. They are very fond of you." Smiling, she reached across the desk, patting Hermione's hand.

"That they are. I'm grieviously sorry for what happend, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said from his painting. Hermione had to fight the twinge that she felt in her chest at the kindly twinkling blue eyes. Even in his portrait, he knew everything.

"Me too," she whispered hoarsely, tears welling behind her eyes. It had been a month, and she still wasn't ready to face what had happend.

"I do believe that you ought to tell Harry, even if you keep it from Ronald." Hermione glanced up sharply, frowning at Dumbledore's painting. "Harry has always been the more mature. He understands you better than Ron does, doesn't he?" It was a rhetorical question, and Hermione swallowed against a lump in her throat.

"I can't, Dumbledore," Hermione rasped, twin tears falling from her eyes. "He's so tortured as it is. I can't add to his burdens. He's finally happy, with Ginny. Even if he still has things to deal with, he's finally happy." Shaking, she wipped the tears off her cheeks. "I can't add to his pain." It was the final word on the subject, her pained voice so heartbreaking that neither adult could muster the strength to prod her further.

Standing, Hermione wipped her face, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and stepped into the fire. "I'm sorry," she said, seeing the respectful yet disappointed look on McGonagall's face. "The Burrow!"

Harry's face spun into view as the fireplace spit her out in the living room of the Weasley home. His brow was crinkled in worry, a frown marring his handsome face. He jumped forward, grabbing Hermione's shoulders as he saw her red, puffy eyes. "What happened?" he demanded, peering deep into her eyes. He'd joked once that her eyes were the portals to her soul, she was that simple to read. Shaking her head, she pushed him away.

"Nothing. I... I just need time," she whispered, sending him a glance as she wrapped her arms around herself, heading for the door. She passed Ron, who backed up and frowned, seeing the look on her face.

"What's up with her?" Ron asked Harry as he joined his mate in the living room.

Harry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair again. "I don't know, mate. But I intend on finding out." He frowned, glancing Molly's guilty face peeking out of the kitchen. "Mrs. Weasley!"

The woman cringed, pulling herself back into the kitchen, pretending oblivious to Harry who followed her, a strictly determined look on his face.

"Yes, Harry dear?" she queried, waving her wand to start the dishes washing themselves.

Crossing his arms, Harry Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived, stared down the woman he'd come to think of as his mother. "Whats wrong with Hermione?"

Molly swallowed. "You see, Harry," she started, pausing and glancing out the window to see Hermione, standing with her back to the house, staring out at the sky. "I can't tell you, as much as I'd like to. Hermione needs to. It's her secret. She needs to be the one to reveal it." Biting her lip, the ever-fretful mother hen, leaned close to Harry. "When she does tell you, you need to be understanding and not be violent. It wasn't her fault." With that, Molly decisively left the kitchen, going in search of Arthur.

Harry frowned, watching as George walked to Hermione's side, opening his arms and letting her cling to him. He growled, something within him surging to life, wanting to tear the Weasley apart.

"Harry? You reckon we oughta go see if there's anything we can do to help?" Ron asked, swallowing past the lump of regret for his actions. He'd picked a fight with her, knowing that Krum was an old friend, and he knew that she'd been under stress lately. She'd bounced back quicker, but there was still something hiding in the depths of her beautiful brown eyes that even Ron had noticed. He'd only been trying to help. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ron had the decency to look ashamed, ready to spring to the side of one of his best mates.

"I reckon so. She looks... horrible," Harry confessed with a frown, wondering why it bothered him so much more than Ginny sad did. It was because she was his amazing best mate. She was even closer to him than Ron. She'd been loyal, completely. When Ron been jealous, when Ron had doubted him, Hermione never had. She'd been with him through the Triwizard Tournament, had dropped her class studying to help him. And he was thankful for it.

Leading Ron outside, they trudged up the incline toward George and Hermione. George pulled away from her as he saw the two approaching, whispering something to Hermione that made her nod with a slight smile and wipe her face off. As George walked past them, Harry's hand caught his arm on reflex.

"How bad?" he asked softy, his emerald eyes catching George's hazel ones. George swallowed, fighting the urge to glance back at Hermione.

"Bad." Retrieving his arm, he continued down the hill to the burrow, leaving Harry and Ron to perhaps finally get the truth from Hermione.

Swallowing, Harry glanced at Ron, who had paused to wait for him. Fear was mirrored in both their eyes, as well as concern for their best mate. Neither dared to hope. She was so much more than a mate, to both of them. She was a sister, a mother, a guide, a tutor, the light to their dark thoughts, the one that kept them on track when they might have gone mad. Or maybe that was what Harry tried to convince himself.

"'Mione?" Harry asked softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder softly. His heart wretched as she turned, her wide, tear filled brown eyes meeting his.

"Harry," she sobbed, then threw herself at him, her face burried in his neck as she cried. Her body trembled against his, her arms wrapped so tightly around him he was almost afraid that his ribs would crack.

"Sh... Shh... We're here," Harry said soothingly, glancing at Ron as he came up, rubbing a calming hand over Hermione's upper back, between her shoulder blades.

"Yeah. Both of us. We're your best mates, 'Mione. You gotta tell us whats wrong." It was a pitiful attempt to help, but it seemed to work, for Hermione slowly stopped crying. Lifting her head from Harry's sturdy, comforting shoulder, she ignore the thoughts in the back of her mind about how well they had fit together, how good it had felt to have him hold her. She could have none of her fantasies, and she had just better give them up now.

"I... I suppose I've just been..." Dragging in a deep breath, she ran a hand through her hair, staring at the ground. She couldn't tell them. She'd told George that she wouldn't, and he'd agreed that it might very well be for the best. "It was horrible, seeing the two of you fighting. Seeing the two of you in danger." Turning bright eyes on Harry, she choked on a sob. "We thought you were dead, Harry. And Ron? I couldn't find you." Tears rolled down her cheeks again, making the boys guiltilly step forward, both eager to comfort her anyway possible. They hated to see her cry. Even if they'd only seen her cry a handful of times, if they never saw her crying again it would only be too soon.

"Hermione, we're sorry. We didn't mean to make you worry." Ron shot Harry a panicked look, not entirely sure what to do. Hermione had cried on Harry, but never on Ron. Ron had been there a time or two, but he'd never had to _hold_ her while she was crying.

"I-I know..." Slipping her arms around their necks, she hugged the both of them close, unwilling to let them go. The two had to bend slightly to accomidate her shorter height, but hugged her back, glad that she had calmed down.

"You ready to go back to the Burrow?" Harry asked a few minutes later, his hand moving up and down her spine as she leaned exauhstedly against him. Ron was standing back, frowning as he considered her.

Hermione sniffled, lifting her head groggilly and nodding. Slipping her arm through Ron's, she leaned into him, letting him make up for the arguement over Krum by escorting her back to the house. Harry came up, taking her other arm on the opposite side. Together, the three made their way back down, the quiet not entirely peaceful, but not strained, either.

Detatching from the boys, Hermione smiled in appology, claiming exauhstion and retiring to the room she shared with Ginny. Though it was technically Ginny's room, Ginny had all but abandoned it for the time being to stay with Harry, be it in Ron's room or in the living room. George, missing the companionship of Fred, had come back to the Burrow for a while, staying close to Hermione. Sometimes they slept in the same bed, clinging to the other, but were always careful to be back in their own rooms by the time Molly or Arthur woke.

Closing the door softly behind her, Hermione winced when she saw Ginny, sitting primly on her bed. The red head glanced up, her gaze chilling significantly upon seeing the intruder. "Sorry for interrupting. I'll go see if George wants company," Hermione murmered, backtracking.

"No, its alright," Ginny rushed, making Hermione pause with her hand on the doorhandle. "Um... I suppose we should talk..." Hermione stiffened, glancing back at Ginny.

"Gin? Is it alright if we talk some other time? I have the worst headache, and I'm dead tired." Biting her lip, she waited for her best mates girlfriend to answer.

"Alright. I'll see you later then. I'll go get some Quiddich practice in." Ginny stood, tossing the magazine she'd been flipping through to the bed and grabbing her broom. Offering Hermione a tiny smile, Ginny slid out of the room.

When she was alone, Hermione sighed in relief. It was just what she needed right now. She couldn't think right. Harry's scent still hung in her nose, intoxicating her. Dropping to her cot, Hermione turned, facing the wall. Why was it so hard? Maybe she just needed some time, away from everyone, completely to herself.

No, if she did that, she'd go insane. Left to her own thoughts with her memories? It would destroy her.

Sighing, drawing the blanket higher over her cold form, Hermione curled down and closed her eyes. She kept seeing his eyes, flashing above her in cold amusement. A last act of malice against a mudblood, a last outlast of hate while their Lord fell. Turning on her opposite side, she reached for her wand, _accio_ing her bottle of dreamless sleep draught to her. Uncorking the bottle, she took the right dose, then replaced it in her things and lay back down.

Eventually she would have to face what had happened. She had a sinking feeling that it would be soon, that it was going to be unfixable. The damage would be permanent. Slipping her hand down, she rested it on her flat stomach, feeling it churn in revulsion. She didn't think she'd ever been so afraid. Would she loose her best mates if they found out? It was bound to happen, and she couldn't stand it.

Closing her eyes, Hermione slowly drifted into a dreamless, troubled sleep.


	2. Revelations

AN: Thank you for all my great reviewers for the first chapter! Because there was such interest, which I completely didn't expect, I decided to post this second chapter. I am working on the third, and it might be awhile for another update. Actually, the number of story alerts and favorite story alerts that I recieved was positively shocking. I almost had a heartattack. But, I also cried. I feel so loved!  
As of now, Hermione is the only one that was involved in the big shebang. Ron and Luna's relationship, however, has been building for a while. Grins evilly You'll just have to wait to find out how. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

_The Meaning of Love_

_The Revelation_

_Winds of Autumn_

Nearly a month later, hand in hand, George Weasley and Hermione Granger walked down the street away from St. Mungos. Hermione's worst fears had been confirmed. When they were a good deal away from the magical hospital, George stopped, tugging her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder. Tucking her close to him, George sighed, knowing that Harry and Ron would have to know now.

Poor Hermione would feel like half a person until she told them. He wondered when she would.

"Come on, Hermione. We need to get back so you can tell Mom before Harry and Ron get back." Kissing the top of her head, he took her hand, leading the sniffling young woman up the hill and keeping hold of her hand as he apparated back to the Burrow.

When they walked into the kitchen, Molly took one look at Hermione's wet cheeks and tear filled brown eyes before enveloping the girl in a hug. "It's not as bad as you think, sweetie," Molly cooed softly, stroking a hand down Hermione's hair and down her back, trying her best to soothe the girl.

"It is. I... Molly, I don't know what to do," Hermione whispered, positively broken. Molly swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat. Perhaps it was the part of her heart that belonged to this sweet girl that had befriended her son, had become part of the huge Weasley family. 

"You need to tell them, sweetie. Maybe one at a time. Harry's liable to handle it better than Ronald." Closing her eyes, Molly hugged the crushed girl closer, wanting nothing more than to take all the pain away.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, pulling away. Wipping her cheeks, she offered the worried woman a smile. "I'm going to clean up. I'll tell him... tonight." Nodding, as if doing so would make her decision unable to be parted from, Hermione headed for the stairs. A shower was in order.

After grabbing a change of clothes, Hermione went into the bathroom, locking the door and setting her wand aside, reassured by the simple fact that it was close if she needed it. Turning the water on, making sure the temperature was hot, she slowly stripped. Once naked, she stood, waiting for the bathroom to begin steaming up before she made any move to step under the spray of water. She paused, however, her attention captured on the only slightly growing curve of her stomach. Her waist had thickened, her breasts getting slightly larger. Leave it to Harry and Ron not to notice anything amiss while the rest of her adopted Weasley family and her other numerous friends did. Sighing, she lifted a hand, resting it almost protectively over her stomach.

Once, she had dreamed of what a miracle it would be to have life growing within her. Now, she wanted no part in it. That wasn't to say that she would voluntarilly put the growing life to death. She just... wouldn't necessarilly keep it after it was born. She winced, remembering who had fathered the child.

Slipping beneath the spray of scalding water, she sighed, hoping that the hot water would wash away the memories and the realities. Tilting her head back, she relished in the feeling. The water was so hot that it felt cold, almost like it was melting away her skin. She'd have burns if she wasn't careful.

After washing her hair with a special shampoo that kept her hair in loose, beautiful curls instead of the bushy, wild hair it had been during school, Hermione slipped from the warm cocoon that had delivered her from life for the minutes she'd been safely wrapped inside it. Pulling on one of Harry's old Quidditch jersey's, she smiled faintly. It still smelled of him, a hint of spice and the outdoors. It was rather large on her, the scarlet material slightly faded, with big, gold block letters on the back spelling out POTTER. Adding a pair of sweatpants, she sighed, glancing at herself once more before stepping out of the bathroom.

Ginny had thrown a fit when Harry had given the jersey to Hermione instead of her. Remembering, it made her smile slightly. Ginny was so jealous, and for no reason. Harry would never leave her, not unless he found the other half of his soul. And even saying that, Hermione doubted it.

Waving her wand, Hermione's hair dried, falling around her shoulders and down her back in shining waves of dark brown. Padding softly down the hallway, she slipped into Harry's room, which he shared with Ron. Finding a piece of parchment, she sat at the messy desk, scowling at the state of disarray which the boys left the desk in. Books were scattered over the surface, quills tossed at random, ink bottles left open, some having already spilt. Rolling her eyes, Hermione quickly cleaned the surface up, too afraid for her life to delve anywhere near the drawers.

Scratching out a small note in her neat, percise handwriting, Hermione rolled it up, putting it somewhere that only Harry would find it. Sighing, she closed the bedroom door softly behind her. Leaning back against it for a moment, Hermione drew in a deep breath before going in search of her shoes and a light jacket. A good, long walk would be good for her.

Harry frowned, sitting back in the Quidditch shed at Hogwarts. Early that morning, he'd returned, intent upon helping McGonagall again in restoring the castle to its complete former glory before term started. As it had turned out, he'd only been needed for half the day. Now, near noon, he found himself in deep thought. What was wrong with Hermione that was tearing her apart so badly? He could see it. She didn't talk to him anymore, didn't hardly leave George's side, using him like a balm against whatever was hurting her.

His brow furrowed as he stood, his hand fisting at his side. He didn't stop to question why it concerned him so much. She was his best, best mate. They'd been even closer than him and Ron. It was only natural that he was worried. Pacing along the length of the room, he glanced up, remembering. Hermione had come to meet him after countless games, her cheeks rosey and her eyes wide and sparkling, wanting to congradulate him before he was swept up into the congradulatory party. And she had always managed to make him want to stay with her, talking, rather than enjoying the party that was thrown.

Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, Harry sighed. It was time he confronted her, demanded to know what was wrong. It was what friends did. Rolling the tension from his shoulders, Harry closed his eyes and apparated back to the Burrow. He stumbled slightly as he opened his eyes to see the place he'd come to think of as home in the past few years. He smiled slightly at the familiar sight, his heart warming in his chest, dispelling some of the worry for a brief second.

Seeing Hermione walking along the edges of the Weasley property, however, brought it all crashing back. Frowning slightly, he narrowed his eyes, grinning slightly at the sight of Hermione's cute, small form tented in his old Quidditch jersey. Picking up into a jog, he quickly came up behind her.

"'Mione?" he asked, slowing his pace to a slow walk as he came closer. He could see where she'd been crying, and it bothered him deeply. His heart... shattered.

"Harry!" she cried, whipping around at the sound of his voice. Immediately, she turned her back to him, starting to murmer a spell that would conceal her crying, but changed her mind. "I... I've been meaning to talk to you..."

Harry smiled and nodded, moving closer and pulling her slight body in for a hug. She was shorter than him, her head brushing his chin, and her small body, packed with curves that he noticed before, yet never thought of in anything more than a passing appreciation, fit perfectly against his. "Come on. Spill it. You know you can tell me anything."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping back. Taking Harry's hand, she pulled it to her stomach, pressing it there, his fingers splayed wide. She waited, watching his face. Harry frowned, moving to pull his hand away from her.

"What are you---"

"I'm pregnant, Harry," Hermione rasped, her voice breaking. Harry's emerald eyes widened, his heart stopping in his chest. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, pregnant? "Two months along, actually."

"How? Who?" His mouth opened and closed, yet no intelligible question came out. Hermione turned her eyes away in shame, telling Harry more than words ever could. "Who?" he demanded, his voice stronger, raised slightly in rage at whoever had forced himself on his sweet best friend.

"Death Eaters... during the battle. I cornered Goyle's father and they came out of nowhere..." She lifted her gaze slightly, staring at his chest rather than meeting his eyes. Harry reached out to hug her again, but she flinched. Her eyes were full of pain, testifying to a broken woman inside.

"Malfoy threw back his hood...

_A sneer marred his perfect features, his grey eyes staring down at her in hatred and something else. Hermione shuddered, wincing and biting her lip to keep from crying out at the latest curse that had been hurled at her, slashing her skin in another spot. Blood already stained her skin, her clothes, and pooled below her on the forest floor. They'd dragged her into the Forbidden Forest, declaring they wanted to hear one last Mudblood cry out as they tortured her. _

_"Such a pretty wench," Lucius sneered, shrugging out of the black robe, tossing it to the masked Death Eater to his right. Beneath his plain black robes, he had stylish robes, more suited to the higher class and their parties than a Death Eater in the middle of a war. _

_Hermione, never one to be cowed or fearful of something as despicable as Malfoy, spat a mouthful of blood at him, not caring that it didn't quite reach him. Lucius only chuckled, shaking his head and nodding to the hooded figures that surrounded him._

_"I bet you're a virgin, too, Gryffindor," he taunted, slowly pushing clothes out of his way. He waved his wand at her, leaving her body naked under the unforgiving, cruel eyes of the many Death Eaters that surrounded them. A few of them laughed at her, rubbing themselves lewdly, encouraging Lucius as the man lowered himself on top of her. _

_He took his time, slowly stroking the young body that had outdone his son in classes so many times. Stroking the fire of hatred in her brown eyes. He enjoyed himself emensely, leaving his own marks upon her virgin body before he took her. For the rest of his life, he'd never forget the way her eyes had filled with tears, yet she had somehow kept them from spilling, her eyes spitting fire at him. If looks could kill, he definately would have joined the scores of dead on this day._

When he was done with her, he waved his wand, cleaning the evidence of her virginity from his body before redressing. Snickering as the broken girl turned on her side, curled into herself, crying softly and murmmuring insanely, he nodded to his fellow Death Eaters. 

Hermione jerked from the memories as she felt strong arms wrap around her, crushing her to a solid, male form. She stiffened, then relaxed as she realized it was just Harry, trying to comfort her. "George found me, and he summoned Molly. They helped me get cleaned up so no one would know." Sniffling lightly, she clung to Harry. He was her light in this darkness that consumed her now.

"God, Hermione. You should have told me sooner." His hand slipped down her hair, burrying in the thick tresses to keep her head pressed into his chest. He could feel the tears burning his eyes, the complete anger and frustration building inside of him. He'd sworn to protect her, and he'd failed.

"I couldn't, Harry. You had enough on your mind. I couldn't add to the guilt." Lifting her head, she pulled back a fraction, studying his face. His jaw was clenched in rage, every muscle in his Quidditch toned body drawn taut. Lifting a hand, she cupped his cheek. "I'm going to keep the baby, Harry," she said. She frowned slightly at her own revelation. Until she'd said it, she hadn't been entirely sure what she was going to do.

"I figured you would," he said softly, his hand slipping through her hair then delving back in. He'd never noticed how soft her hair was. It was beautiful. "You're too sensitive to get rid of it, wanted or not." Sighing, he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm with you, Hermione. If you ever need anything, I'm behind you." 

Hermione smiled, her eyes filling with tears again. Throwing her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly, her tears sliding down her cheeks to spill against his collar. "Thank you, Harry! I was so worried you wouldn't understand." Harry sighed, understanding better than he wanted.

His gut was still clenched in anger, his hands itching to strangle the life out of Malfoy. If only the bastard wasn't already dead. He couldn't bear the thought of someone else touching Hermione, stroking her body, taking her willingly or against her will. It made him see red, made his blood boil, made him want to destroy something. And yet, with her sweet body pressed so close to his, the slightly rounding stomach pressing against his flat one, he knew that his feelings would have no weight if she ever found someone to make her happy. His wants and wishes were dust in light of hers. Harry closed his eyes, quite disturbed by his sudden realization. If it meant making her happy, he'd willingly watch her walk into the arms of another.

It scared him. He'd never felt that deep of an emotion for anyone, not even Ginny. Was this love? The kind that Molly talked about, the kind she'd found in Arthur? The kind Lily had found in James? The kind that Remus had found in Tonks? If it was, he wasn't sure he wanted it. It involved too much pain and feelings that he didn't want, nor did he have time for. He couldn't love his best mate. He couldn't be in love with Hermione Granger. He was seeing Ginny Weasley.

Harry nearly growled as Hermione pulled away from him, his arms aching to drag her back to his chest. He could still feel her body pressed against him, and he wanted, under no circumstances, to let her slip free. But he had to let her, so he regretfully did so.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered again, lifting a hand to his cheek softly. Harry fought the urge to turn his face further into her small hand.

"What are friends for?" His gut clenched again as he saw a small smile slip across her face. She was so damn beautiful, so innocent even after all that they'd experienced, that all he wanted to do was protect her. It wasn't completely new to him, as he'd wanted to protect his friends and family since the day he learned of who he was and what he had to do, but the strength with which his inner male had roared to life at the thought of her being touched and hurt? It hadn't happened before, ever.

And suddenly, he realized, that since the search for the Horcruxes and the battle, he'd been in love with her. Her beautiful smile, her bookwormish ways, the tentative smarts, the fierce way she leap up to protect himself and Ron, her deep loyalty that ran deeper than Ron's, her wild hair, her amazing eyes, the way her nose wrinkled when she concentrated, the way the firelight played upon her features when she read in the living room in the evenings. So many little things that made his day... _wonderful. _

When he didn't talk to her, he was a crab. When he didn't see her smile, he was grumpy all day. Even Ginny had commented on his sour mood the past month. Hermione had been spending more time with George than him and Ron. Swallowing tightly, he blinked as she slid under his arm, her arm around his waist, as she leaned her slight weight against his side. It felt... perfect. Like she was filling some void space inside him that had been missing before.

Smiling slightly, allowing himself to ignore everything else for just a moment, he wrapped his arm firmly around her small waist, anchoring her to his side.

"Harry!"

Harry froze, as did Hermione. As if touching him burned her, she moved back, away from him, causing a shift inside him akin to pain. It was Ginny.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione said softly, offering the red-head a smile. Turning her head, she gave Harry a sincere smile, one that made her eyes light up and made his body surge to life. "Thanks for your help, Harry. I'll see you two later." Moving around Ginny, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, then headed back down the hill toward the house.

Dragging his eyes off her retreating figure, he lifted a brow to find Ginny studying him. "I understand that she's your best friend, Harry, but theres something else going on, isn't there?" Harry blinked. He'd been caught. He should have known that Ginny would be able to see right through him. It wasn't hard.

"She's special to me, Gin. She was there for me when Ron wasn't, and now I have to be there for her." Harry took a step forward, lowering his voice and dipping his head slightly. "She was raped, Ginny. And she's pregnant with Malfoy. I can't just turn my back on her when she needs her friends the most."

Ginny sucked in a breath upon hearing what Hermione had been through. Her eyes widened. And to think, poor Hermione had been a virgin, introduced to the world of carnal pleasures only to feel pain. "Oh Merlin. I didn't know!" Lifting a hand, she covered her mouth, her eyes wide in shock as she stared past Harry.

"Ginny, I won't let her go through it alone." Ginny's head jerked up at the tone in Harry's voice. Loyalty. Devotion. A desire to forsake everything else in order to persue this one path. Her eyes went wide. He was in love with her! Perhaps he didn't realize it yet, but he was. It would explain... everything.

"Neither will I," tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. It surprised them both.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked slowly, unsure that he wanted Ginny anywhere near his Hermione while she needed him. It was bound to get rough, and he knew that there was a chance of deeper bonding. Did he really want to share that?

Ginny nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Yeah. If she wants me to help. We haven't been very close lately." Harry nearly nodded as he saw his girlfriend look sad at her last statement.

"Talk to her. I'm sure she wouldn't push you away." It was torn from his throat. He didn't want them getting close! Was it too much to ask to have someone to himself? Someone to depend on him for once? Someone that he could protect and love? Was it too much to expect that he could repay her for her complete devotion since their first year? With_out _Ginny's interfering presence?

Ginny smiled at him, leaning forward to brush a quick kiss over his lips before heading back for the house. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, staring blankly after the beautiful red head. Only, his heart didn't soar like it did at the sight of a bushy, brown haired girl that wore baggy clothes.

Following slowly, Harry frowned. How could he ever tell Hermione? And, on the same token, Ginny? He'd have to. There was no way he could be happy with the rest of his life stuck with Ginny, seeing lines of struggle and a harsh life appearing on Hermione's beautiful face. He would tell them, he decided. He'd tell Ginny that it just wasn't working, and he'd allow things to flow a bit between Hermione and himself before he decided how he should tell her.

The strangest part was, he knew that as long as he had Hermione, he'd gladly raise Malfoy's baby as his own. Unintentional as it had been, Malfoy had given Harry a gift; a way to gain Hermione's love. If Hermione hadn't been raped, he was sure he never would have come to the realization that he loved her. No one else mattered, no one else held a candle to her beauty, inside and out.

Entering the Burrow throught the kitchen door, Harry paused and smiled, leaning against the doorjam as he watched Molly fawning over Hermione openly now.

"What color do you think? Pink? Blue? Yellow? Or a pale mix?" Hermione looked dazed as Molly prattled on about plans. Apparently, she thought that Ron knew. And if her excited words were any indication, she thought that Ron was supporting Hermione, 100.

"Eh, Molly?" Harry interrupted, smiling slightly at the dazed look in Molly's eyes as she finally realized that Harry was in the room.

"Yes, dear?"

"Ron doesn't know yet," he said, his eyes flicking to Hermione. His stomach errupted in butterflies at the small smile she gave him, full of gratitude.

"Oh. I just... assumed that..." Molly broke off, frowning.

"Molly? I took everyone's advice. I... I was hoping that Harry would be with me when I told Ron..." Hermione broke off, glancing at Harry hesitantly. 

"Of course I will," Harry answered, no pause needed to consider or process the question. It was an immediate answer. No thought needed. His quick answer seemed to reassure Hermione, for she beamed at him.

"I see. Well, Ron should be home soon. I'll start on dinner." Still frowning slightly, Molly turned, waving her wand to draw the necessary things for lunch to her. Harry stepped forward, waiting for Hermione, before walking up to the room he shared with Ron. Sitting on his bed, he glanced at the desk and grinned. Hermione had definately been in here.

Suddenly, images filled his mind. A quaint little cottage, filled with books and little things Hermione. A baby, brown haired and just as intelligent as Hermione. Grimmauld Place, redecorated and homey. Another baby, black haired with huge brown eyes, held tenderly in Hermione's arms. 

"Hermione? I was thinking... About redecorating Grimmauld Place." Harry looked at her, leaving the discussion open. Her eyes widened, a smile spreading across her features.

"I think thats great, Harry!" The house was his, handed down for Sirius. Redecorating and flushing out the rest of the small touches of the Dark Arts and replacing it with something that made it home to him would be good. It would give Harry something to go to everyday, somewhere where he would feel safe. Somewhere he could start a family.

Her gut twisted, her heart thudding harshly at the thought. Harry? Starting a family? With... another woman? With... Ginny? The thought was too revolting, threatening to make her throw up all over the boy's room.

"Would you help me?" Harry asked, trying not to look too interested in her response. He didn't realize for a few seconds that he was holding his breath, hoping with everything he had that she would agree. The soft noise of a sob broke his concentration, made him look up.

"You... You'd want me to help?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide, filling with tears as her lips trembled. It seemed that in one day, every emotion she'd ever felt for Harry, even the ones she'd locked away during the years, had tumbled forth and drawn size from freedom.

Harry smiled, so big that his glasses lifted slightly off his nose, and leaned forward to brush the tears off his best friends cheeks. Her eyes met his, then fluttered closed for a moment before opening and concentrating on his face again. "Of course. What kind of home would it be without the help of my best mate in redecorating?" he teased. Hermione's lips tilted up into a smile and she moved forward, resting comfortably against him. He hugged her easilly to his form, smoothing his hand over her hair as she leaned into him. It gave him the funniest feeling, a sense of contentment and peace.

It was strange; he'd felt it with Ginny once. It had never been as complete, but he'd felt it. Maybe he found it in acceptance. In those he loved and who loved him in turn. As he thought of this, his hand slowly moving up and down Hermione's back in calming motions, he had to admit that he wasn't ready to admit his feelings just yet. He and Ginny were doing good, and Hermione would only think he was pittying her. He sighed, lowering his cheek to Hermione's hair.

For now, he'd just see how things went. Maybe these feelings for his best mate were confused, scrambled up by the new realization of what had befallen her. That was it. It had to be. If not, how in the world could he face himself and everyone else?


	3. Ron's Temper

AN: Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews for the past two chapters. I found the suggestions and comments highly helpful! AND! Looking for a beta. Please, send me an e-mail with Beta as the subject! Much love!

_The Meaning of Love_

_Ron's Temper_

_Winds of Autumn_

The day after Harry and Hermione shared their conversation in Harry and Ron's room, Harry told Molly of his plan to redecorate Grimmauld Place over a large breakfast, made especially in light of Molly's worry over Ron's failure to return the night before. She had been as excited over the news as Hermione had been, and just as eager to help him get it done.

Sitting at the table, Hermione looked happier than Harry or anyone had seen her since her sixth year. She wore a contented little smile, a sparkle in her brown eyes that seemingly couldn't be dimmed, not even by Ron's missing presence or Ginny's sour persona. Harry was happy for her. Truely happy that she could finally face the sunrise without shame and depression.

"Hogwarts letters came early this morning," Molly announced, handing them out to the three at the table. Ron's sat on the counter, a target of constant attention as Molly shot frequent glances at it, as if by doing so she could jerk Ron back home. The clock in the living room had his hand at safe, at least.

Hermione eagerly reached for her own envelope, anxious to see the book list for the upcoming year. As was standard procedure, Minerva had sent them all the standard invitation back to another year at Hogwarts, though each of theirs was a bit more personalized. Hermione's read:

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_You are formally invited to continue your schooling at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you shall find yourself accepting the offer, I would appreciate hearing from you. If you do not accept, I would also appreciate hearing from you. _

_Also, in light of recent events and repercussions, you will be granted further responsibilities and priviledges. As Head Girl, you will share a common room with the Head Boy. You will have access to the kitchens at any time, and should you be in need of assisstance from either Madame Pomfrey or St. Mungos, the fireplace will be open for your use. I do trust you to be responsible with such a responsibility, however, and if it is not, your position as Head Girl will be revoked. _

_I do hope that you accept the offer that Hogwarts is extending to you. And, rest assured, your present pregnancy will not have any weight on how you will be treated. Any person or persons found calling unnecessary attention to it in a uncalled-for way will face consequences, have no doubt._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall _

Hermione stared at the parchment for a long moment, then beamed. She'd gotten Head Girl! Shaking the envelope to retrieve the badge, she set the note from McGonagall and the list of required books aside. A glance at Harry let her know that he'd been chosen as Head Boy. Sneaky, brilliant witch, McGonagall was. She knew that Harry wouldn't let anyone send her smart remarks or harm her, and by naming them both Heads, she had effectively--- and quietly--- ensured that they would always be together in case Hermione was in need.

"Congradulations, Harry!" Hermione squealed, reaching across the table to give him a high-five. Ginny smiled too, proud that her boyfriend had acquired such a position. She herself had kept a Prefect position, as she was sure Ron had.

"Will you be getting Quiddich Captain, too?" Hermione asked, tilting her head as she watched him. Feeling Ginny's spiteful brown gaze on her, she quickly dropped her gaze, becoming interested in the book list. A trip to Diagon Alley would be good for them, all of them. And while they were there, she and Harry could work on getting some things for Grimmauld Place.

"I don't know," Harry said slowly, staring at the badge. He was sure, with Hermione and Head Boy, that he'd have enough on his hands, along with the year of preperation for the N.E.W.T.S. Perhaps it would be good to pass on to Ron. He'd do fine, Harry had no doubt. Grinning, he glanced at Ginny. "Think Ron'll want it?"

Ginny's eyes brightened, and she grinned back. "He'd love it. Just don't let him know you passed it up and he got seconds on it." Harry nodded in response, grabbing a quill to write back to McGonagall. When he was done with the brief note, he paused, having been on his way to reaching for Hedwig.

Ginny, reading it, rested a hand on his arm. "You can use Arnold, or even Harrold." Harry smiled and winced.

"Crookshanks is around somewhere. He needs the exercise," Hermione offered without looking up from her list. She turned to Molly, immediately becoming emmersed in a conversation about what might be found in Diagon Alley; anything from baby necessities to what Harry might like in his journey to redecorate Grimmauld Place.

"Thanks," he murmered, taking Ginny's hand and tugging her after him as he left the kitchen. Ginny pouted slightly, stung that he'd choose Hermione's kneezle over her pygmy-puff. "C'mon," he whispered against her ear, his body brushing lightly against hers. Her eyes changed immediately, a tiny smile lurking on her lips as she allowed him to drag her to the empty field where they played Quiddich during the summer. Just over the rise was a field of trees, and the two disappeared into them. Dropping the parchment for later, Harry pulled Ginny close.

"Oohh, Harry, I've missed you," Ginny murmered softly, her hands framing his face as she kissed him gently. He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose and standing there, his girlfriend pulled tightly to his chest. She was nearly as tall as he was, and didn't fit against him as well as he would have liked. There was someone else who fit against him better...

"Don't talk," Harry whispered in return, closing his eyes as he just held her. Ginny had other things in mind, however, and she soon had Harry agreeing.

Back at the Burrow, Molly and Hermione looked up simultaineously as Ron finally came home. Upon being caught, the red-head flushed deeply and avoided his mothers direct look.

"Ronald Percival Weasley!" Ron winced, his shoulders sagging.

"Yes, mum?" he asked, turning to her hopefully.

"Just where do you think you've been?!" Planting her hands on her hips, Molly tilted her head back defiantly to meet the repentant gaze of her taller son.

"Mum..." Ron paused, leaning forward to whisper something in her ear. She stood silently for a moment, then smiled at him.

"Up to your room with you. Bathe and change. You'll not eat until you do." That said, Molly turned back to Hermione, taking her seat in front of her again and resuming their conversation about babies.

"Babies are such special gifts. They are what is truely magical in a world such as ours." Molly smiled, patting Hermione's hand. "I can't wait! You'll be due in... late January? Early Feburary?"

"Molly!" Hermione whispered urgently, her frantic gaze meeting Ron's furious ones.

"Pregnant, Hermione?" Ron asked softly, his voice completely at odds with the fire in his eyes. Molly blinked, then winced.

"Ronald, sit down. Hermione's got something to tell you." Ron ignored his mother, his gaze still locked furiously with Hermione's.

"Ron... I was raped," Hermione started out, dropping her gaze from his to stare sightlessly at the floor as she relived the memory yet again. When she'd finished her tale, she looked up at him, tears clinging to her thick lashes. "I understand if you're angry for me not telling you, but I knew how you'd respond, and I figured that I would wait until I knew for sure if there would be a reason to tell you or not. There is. I'm two months pregnant."

Ron was quiet for a few minutes. Then, as if he was just waking up from a long winters' nap, he stepped forward and drew her into his arms. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered hoarsely. That was what hurt the most; the fact that Hermione had kept it from him. Suddenly, things seemed to make sense. Her closeness Molly, her hesitance to go out into public, her withdrawl from things she loved, the pitying looks that the Order had been giving her, and the shadows in her eyes.

"I couldn't. You and Harry would have seen it as your personal failure, and I couldn't let you guys feel any more guilt." Hermione sniffled, burrying her face in his chest. He was taller than Harry, and more wiry. There was the same strength, just not as prettily packaged.

Ron closed his eyes. "You were wrong to keep it from us, Hermione. We would have helped you. What if we had kept something this important from you?" He felt Hermione shiver and drew away, giving her a last look before heading upstairs for his room. He heard Hermione's sob behind him, but ignored it. He was hurt, beyond belief, that she hadn't thought to share with either of her best mates.

In the middle of the hall he paused, as if the pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. Rage filled him, made him tremble, and he careened back into the kitchen. Hermione saw him first, and her eyes went wide as she stumbled out of the chair, an unreasonable fear filling her at the sight of him so angry.

"You told George first?!" he bellowed, slamming a fist into the table as he advanced on her. Molly was paralyzed; she'd never seen her son, any of them, in a rage such as this. Hermione backed up, terrified little steps that backed her into a corner as Ron advanced. Wide eyed and trembling, she slid down the wall to curl up, hugging her knees to her chest as he towered over her.

"I'm your BEST MATE! I WAS YOUR BOYFRIEND! And you trusted my brother over me?" Hermione sobbed, rocking back and forth, whimpering as Ron's rage washed over her. It was unreasonable to be so afraid, she knew it in some part of her mind, and yet she couldn't help it. Would he hit her? Would he send curses flinging at her like _they _had?

"Ronald!" Molly's voice rang sharply in the air, the threat reinforced by the wand that was raised and directed toward her youngest son.

Ron glanced at her, then backed off, fire still in his eyes as he stomped away, heading for the backdoor instead of going up to his room as his mother had ordered earlier.

Molly went to Hermione immediately, wrapping the trembling, terrified girl in her tightest hug and rocking her back and forth. Waving her wand, she sent a patronas to Minerva. It was high time that Hermione received some counselling, whether she wanted it or not.


	4. Luna and Minerva

AN: I've heard that kneazle's and pygmy puffs don't deliver mail. I honestly thought they did, probably because of my sometimes incomprehending mind. I'm sorry if it confused anyone! But, in my story, as Ginny and Hermione's familiars, they deliver mail... Author's rights, right?

_The Meaning of Love_

_Luna and Minerva_

_Winds of Autumn_

Ron stormed up the hill, heading blindly for his only consolation as of late. She'd been there for him when Harry had been dealing with the shock of what had happened, and when Hermione had been so terrified to leave her room that talking to her had been impossible. For nearly a month, he'd dealt with things on his own. He'd dealt with the loss of his brother and the impact of Voldemort finally gone, had realized that no matter how hard he tried, he just wasn't good enough for Hermione, and he'd grown up. When he'd been close to breaking, she had stumbled upon him, on one of her crazy adventures. That day, they had become friends. Probably closer friends than he'd ever been with Harry or Hermione, even if it had happened in the span of an hour.

She'd gotten the story out of him, had let him cry without noticing he had, and they had talked. They had really talked, the conversation deeper than any he'd ever had with anyone else, analyzing the actions and the consequences of the war and how each of them had changed from it. She'd understood, and she had helped him understand.

She would understand; she always did. It didn't seem to matter to her what they had been through, what had been accomplished only months ago. She was still the same. Flighty and out there.

He smiled, even in his blind rage. She was so... amazing. Even with her out-there ways, she always had something smart to say, something to cheer him up. And, best of all, she cared. She didn't pretend or listen with half an ear. She stopped what she was doing, made eye contact, and gave him her all.

It was almost scary how her whimsical eyes suddenly went serious and you could almost see the thoughts there. It was scary how she made him feel things he'd never thought possible. It had scared him before, but now... Now it was so normal that he rarely thought about it.

Clearing the hill, he smirked slightly, seeing her blonde hair in the sunshine as she sat beneath their tree. Their tree... It had a ring to it, Ron thought. Something completely theirs.

Her head swiveled, her clear blue eyes cutting into him even from a distance. A slow smile curved her lips, making Ron's knees tremble. Quickly closing the distance between them, he plopped down beside her.

"What's bothering you?" she asked, setting her book aside.

"Luna, do you ever think that we're drifting apart? Me, Harry, and Mione, I mean." He struggled not to turn his head, look into her eyes. She saw too much.

"I suppose you are. Harry has his own world of problems that he has always had to deal with. Things he tried to keep from touching you and Hermione, as you are his best friends. And Hermione... She's so different from you that I wonder often how the two of you have gotten along so long." Luna turned, taking his hand in hers. "Tell me what happened, Ron," she said softly.

Ron sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over his freckled face and up through his mess of red hair. "Hermione. She's pregnant. I guess... George found her, and she tried to keep it a secret. She can't keep it anymore though. She was raped and now she's pregnant." He paused, letting this sink in. He felt Luna squeeze his hand in encouragement, and sighed as he went on. "I got mad. I yelled at her, made her cry." He grit his teeth, turning to look at her. His savior in the darkness of the past year. "I yelled at her, made her cower in a bloody corner! She was crying, shaking, begging me to stop." He closed his eyes, unable to believe his own actions.

"You had the right to be angry, Ronald. She was your best friend, and yet she kept something that huge from you. I can understand why she did it, though. How would you feel, telling her and Harry you were raped?" she asked softly, touching his cheek gently. She'd come to care for him a great deal in the time they'd been friends. Lately, he'd been coming to her more and more often, their talks getting longer and more serious. A few times, they had fallen asleep in the warm summer nights, under the tree they often sought out for shade.

Ron sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I guess you're right," he said softly. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Hermione had only been trying to spare him and Harry from further pain and demons, hoping against hope that she wasn't pregnant with the man's baby. But she was. She'd had to tell them. He gave a humorless laugh. Harry had probably taken it better. He wondered how long it would take for Harry to realize that Ginny wasn't who he wanted.

"How long of Harry helping her do you think it will take?" Ron asked Luna softly, shifting down to lay back, his head resting comfortably in her lap. Luna smiled, stroking his hair as a distant look came to her eyes.

"I don't know. I suppose it's up to Ginny, how bad she wants to keep Harry." Luna's explanation of the situation struck Ron as more logical than most people believed possible for her. He frowned.

"How long have you seen it?"

Luna laughted softly, the sound washing over Ron and teasing his senses. "Since fourth year." Ron nodded. "Maybe you should try to help her?" It was a stupid thing to say to Ron. She knew he held a grudge, and he would do so against Hermione simply because he had been the last to know. They had dated, had shared things that she hadn't shared with anyone else, and she'd trusted in others before him. To Ron, that was the deepest betrayl.

Ron snorted, giving Luna just the reaction that she had expected. "No way. She's got all them to help her. She didn't think she needed me then, what makes her think I want to help her now?" he demanded. Luna shrugged, leaning her head back against the rough bark of the tree, her fingers running through the silky, long red strands of Ron's hair.

"You know what dad got me?" she asked, her tone dreamy again. Ron grinned. Her limit of seriousness had been used.

"No, what?"

"More earrings," she said, giggling softly as she pushed her long hair back to show him her ear. There, dangling from her dainty lobe, was a little upside-down quidditch player on a broom. "He said he hoped you would like them," she added mistily. Ron chuckled. It was so easy to tell when she wanted a compliment, fishing or not. It was the look on her face, split between prideful and stricken at what she'd just said, at the hidden meaning that he was sure to pick up. 

Perhaps it was Luna. Perhaps it was maturity. Ron could easilly pay attention to her now, could easilly pay attention to everything when they were together, for that matter. Perhaps it was her. He felt like the protector when he was with her, like he was the man, like he had to step up and be better. With Harry and Hermione, he'd always been in the middle, stuck between loyal best friend and follower. Closing his eyes, he pushed the thoughts away, unwilling to dwell on them. He didn't want to dwell on them, and bloody hell, he wouldn't.

"They're perfect," he said softly, shifting his gaze from the earring to her face. Grinning, he sat up and stood, offering her a hand. "You think your dad will mind if I drop in on you for lunch?" Luna giggled, letting him help her up.

"Of course not, Ron. Daddy loves the company." Taking his hand, Luna led Ron down the hill to her house, recently rebuilt after the explosion with the artifact that should not, under any dreamy, seductive thoughts, been in the house. But, of course, she had her fathers love of questionable, highly unusual objects, and she knew that she wouldn't have been able to turn it away then, either. She did regret, however, that she had to recreate the portrait of friends on her wall.

Or maybe she didn't. She'd drawn her and Ron right beside each other this time, just as she felt they should be.

Hermione fiddled nervously as she sat across the desk from McGonagall. The older woman watched her, her eyes hard and understanding at the same time. She waited patiently, her hands folded on the desk in front of her, watching Hermione.

"Professor, I really don't know what they want me to talk to you about. I mean..." Hermione shrugged, her gaze skittering along the room, away from McGonagall.

"Call me Minerva, Hermione. I do believe you've earned that right, as well as my respect." Her lips tightened briefly, pain reflecting behind her glasses as she leaned forward. "I'm about to tell you something, Hermione, that I've never told anyone."

Hermione lifted her head, frowning slightly as she watched Minerva, as she was now allowed to call her. It would be a strange transition at first, but she would get used to it eventually. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

Minerva closed her eyes briefly, then reached for Hermione's hand. Hermione surrendered it, surprised at the warm grip that Minerva held. "When I was near thirteen, I... I found myself in a position extremely similar to your own." She swallowed. She had thought that she'd gotten over it, but now she wasn't so sure. If it helped Hermione, though, she would relive the pain.

"Oh, Profe... Minerva," Hermione breathed. She squeezed the other woman's hand, offering the same comfort that Minerva had offered her. Minerva waved a hand, as if doing so could wipe the event away from her past.

"It was quite a long time ago, dear. I just thought... talking to someone who could relate might help." Minerva shrugged, glancing up at the portrait of Dumbledore.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, thinking. Minerva could almost see the cranks turning, producing thoughts and answers to her own dilemmas. "It does make me feel a bit more comfortable sitting here across from you," she murmured, her hand drifting from her lap to her still relatively flat stomach. "I'm keeping him, Minerva," Hermione breathed, offering a small smile. "And he'll love everyone, reguardless of their background. He'll respect women, know how to study properly, be a wonderful friend. And he'll know how to love."

Minerva smiled, reaching across the desk to pat the young woman's hand. "Good. I'm happy for you." And she was. It wasn't every rape victim that could come to terms with it and recognize a resulting baby for the miracle it was. They never forward with their life and learned to trust men again. But she could see the strength to move on in Hermione. With Harry's help, of course.

Hermione smiled, then glanced around the office, so different yet so familiar. McGonagall had changed it up just a bit, but there were still traces of Dumbledore everywhere you looked. It was a nice feeling, being close to both beloved teachers. "May I ask a favor, Prof... Minerva?" Hermione asked, knowing it would take a while to get used to conversing with her prior professor on a first name basis.

"Of course. Ask away," Minerva answered, drawing her gaze away from the portrait of the ever-smiling, knowledgeable-even-in-death Dumbledore.

"Don't let the Malfoys find out." Hermione's eyes were hard, fierce, and Minerva fought a smile. The girl would be a wonderful mother.

"Of course not. If they don't already know, I'll do my best to keep it that way," Minerva agreed. If Narcissa and Draco got wind of Hermione's pregnancy, they would surely come after her, probably in an attempt to rid the girl of her baby. It would be a stain against the Malfoy name if word got out, and they couldn't have that.

Hermione nodded, then rose. "If its alright, I think I'll go back now. Harry must be worried," she said, the worry evident in her eyes and the way she chewed on her lip. Minerva nodded, settling back in her chair and watching as Hermione flooed away.

"She's in love with him." Minerva looked up, meeting the sparkling gaze of Dumbleore's portrait.

"How long have you seen it?" she asked, smiling softly. Dumbledore's lips twitched up into a smile.

"Since I saw her petrified on that hospital bed, clutching the only thing that would warn her two best friends."

Minerva nodded slowly, the information sinking in slowly. Even if Hermione hadn't realized it then, Dumbledore was right. The deep loyalty had been there since Harry and Ron had rescued her from the Troll their first year. Perhaps not as deeply for Ron, since it was a common occurance of his to say mean things to Hermione. Hermione had always been the brains behind the brawn, but she had fought just as fiercely as Harry and Ron.

"They would make a fine couple," she said with a smile. The portrait laughed softly, nodding in agreement.


	5. Hidden Thoughts

A/N: Sorry this update took so long. I had a bit of writers block, and with spring break and my birthday Tuesday, I was busy. Please, forgive me! Thank you for all the loyal readers and those who keep adding me to their favorites lists and alert lists. I would love to have a review from all of you with helpful tips or just a good job. Gets a writers spirit up, I tell ya! Anyway, enjoy.

_The Meaning of Love_

_Hidden Thoughts_

_Winds of Autumn_

Harry bared his teeth at Molly, rage rolling in his stomach, barely contained as he remembered who she was. "What do you mean?" he roared, his eyes flashing dangerously. Ron had found out, had flown off the handle.

Molly crossed her arms, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. She'd never seen Harry in a fit of anger before, but it was down right frightening. "Just what I told you. I accidentally let it slip, and Ron exploded. Hermione needed help, so we called Professor McGonagall. She's with her right now." She glanced at the clock, as Harry and Hermione had been added. "And she's on her way back."

Harry clenched his jaw, hurrying into the living room to pace in front of the fire place, knowing that Hermione would return to the Burrow by floo. While he'd been out... discovering things with Ginny, his best friend had been faced with the brunt of Ron's wrath, alone. Fisting a hand, he ignored Ginny. She didn't say anything, just stood in the doorway and watched patiently, believing that he would talk to her when he calmed down and felt like talking.

He whirled around as he heard someone landing. It was Hermione, looking sick as she left the fireplace. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she pressed the other to her mouth, closing her eyes for a second as she regained her sense of balance. Harry moved forward as she straightened, his hands going to her shoulders. He stared at her for a moment, green eyes locking with chocolate brown ones. Then, he pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her and holding her.

"I'm sorry about Ron," he said softly, not caring that his girlfriend, the one who had just showed them the wonders of a more physical relationship, was watching. "He can be a git sometimes, you know that."

Hermione slowly returned the hug, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him just as tightly as he was holding her. "He just doesn't understand," she said softly, her voice muffled from being pressed against his shoulder. She sensed rather than saw Ginny shift, coming closer and slowly settling a hand on her shoulder. Lifting her head, she looked at the girl, pulling away from Harry.

"He'll come around eventually Hermione. Its just hard. He still has feelings for you, has at least deluded himself that he has." The red haired girl smiled slightly, shrugging a shoulder. She resolved to try, no matter how hard it would be, to get Hermione and Ron back together. She had offered her help to Hermione, simply because she was Harry's best friend, and because she had been part of the family for nearly eight years. She offered her help because to not do so would be to loose Harry right now.

She knew it would happen eventually, but if she tried hard enough, perhaps he wouldn't see his feelings for Hermione as she had. He was dense when he wanted to be. Perhaps this would be one of those situations.

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione said softly, offering a slow smile. "I think I'll go lay down and get some rest." Excusing herself, she headed for the stairs. She had so much to think about, so much to plan. She smiled softly, resting a hand on her stomach. And she would enjoy every minute.

Harry turned to Ginny, studing her with an odd expression on his face. She frowned, tilting her head. "What?" she asked softly, reaching out to push his hair away from his eyes.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head and dropping his gaze. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he shuffled his feet, letting out a sigh. "I need to go apologize to your mum," he said. Kissing her forehead, Harry moved around her, returning to the kitchen.

Molly glanced up, smiling gently. "Yes, Harry?" she asked, seeing the determined look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking around the kitchen, unable to meet her eyes. She was like his mother, and he'd been acting hostile to her a lot in the last few days.

She smiled, waving his apology away. "Its alright, Harry. I understand that you've been worried and stressed. Now, run along. You need to start thinking about what you're going to do with that house of yours," she said with a grin, standing and waving her wand. Knives leapt into action, chopping ingredients for dinner.

Harry smiled, remembering what he loved about this woman. She was a mother of nine children. She knew everything. Turning, he paused, glancing back at her. "Molly? Where's Ron been sneaking off to?" he asked. Her eyes twinkled.

"I do believe he's been spending time with Luna." Harry froze, staring at his adoptive-mother in shock.

"No way!" Harry exclaimed, shocked. Ron had always seemed... Well, it had always appeared that he hadn't particularly liked Luna. But, things did change, which Harry was coming to realize better than most. It made sense, though. He'd been just as depressed and down trodden as he had been, and then one day, he'd been better. Almost like he was the old Ron again.

Molly merely smiled, turning back to the preparations for dinner, leaving Harry to wander around the house. His feet carried him up toward Ginny's room, toward the sleeping witch inside. He opened the door, stepping inside and smiling slightly. Hermione was sitting at the desk, scribbling away madly. At the sound of the door closing, she looked up, startled.

"Oh, Harry. You scared me," she said with a soft smile, setting her quill aside and turning to watch him. Harry crossed his arms, leaning against the door.

"Sorry. I was just thinking, maybe tomorrow we could go by Grimmauld Place and get an idea about what to do with the inside." He tried to sound casual, but Hermione could see the tense nervousness that vibrated beneath the surface.

Smiling softly, Hermione nodded. "That will be good. We can work on cleaning out the rest of the dark magic while we decide on what would fit for interior decoration." Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, glad beyond belief that Hermione had agreed to help him. In truth, he wasn't sure he could go back. He worried about Kreacher, and that dratted portrait.

"We need to get that horrid portrait off the wall. Thats the first order of business." In truth, Harry didn't care if they had to shred the thing, or blast it, as long as it was gone and Sirius' mother could never bother them again. The rest of the portraits were at least tolerable.

Hermione giggled, making Harry grin at the sound. "We'll work on it. I'm not sure how successful we'll be, as Molly and the rest of the Order tried."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Harry said confidently, moving over to kiss her hair. "Get some rest, Mione. I'll come up and wake you for dinner." And with that, the green-eyed hero was gone, leaving Hermione smiling softly at his depart. He was always so thoughtful.

The next morning, just as the splinters of dawn spread across the Burrow, Hermione vaulted from bed and made a dash for the bathroom. It seemed that she wasn't as lucky as she had hoped, and morning sickness had visited her afterall. After emptying her stomach of all it would allow, she groaned and wiped her hair back from her clammy forehead. It was still too early for the boys to be up, but Molly would be, and she was always stimulating conversation.

Her mind was on the upcoming decorating as she got dressed and moved silently down the stairs to sit in the kitchen. As expected, Molly was awake, already humming softly as she began the preparations for breakfast. The Weasley family may have been hard on money, but they never went hungry. Hermione smiled, deciding that this would be the way she ran her household. Full of hardships, but overflowing with love and the strong bond of family.

"Morning dear," Molly greeted happilly as Hermione took a seat.

"Morning," Hermione replied, offering a small smile as her gaze slid past Molly to look at the food she was preparing. Queasiness bubbled through her, making her lift a hand to her lips to resist the urge to start heaving again.

"Oh, dear. I didn't figure you'd get morning sickness. I'll start on a potion right away. It should help." Hermione nodded, shifting her gaze away from the food and looking down at the table.

"That would be wonderful, Molly," she mumured. She had hoped that the morning sickness would pass her by, but it didn't look like it was going to.

Molly merely smiled, drifting to sit in front of Hermione, blocking out the sight of the food, for which the busy-haired woman was grateful. "I remember my many times," she said softly, her eyes going distant as she reminisced. "Strangely, morning sickness with the twins was the calmest." She smiled tenderly, a hand drifting down to rub her soft tummy, as if by doing so she was touching the children that had grown there.

Reaching forward, Hermione squeezed the woman's wrist gently. "You're a wonderful mother, Molly, and a great friend." Molly smiled, touched by Hermione's words.

"Well thank you, dear. I think you'll be a wonderful mother, too," she said, leaning forward to chastely press a kiss to the young woman's forehead. "Run on up and wake the boys. You and Harry will be wanting to get an early start on Diagon Alley." Hermione nodded, glad for an excuse to vacate the kitchen, filled with the scents of breakfast. Usually tantalizing, the scents made her stomach churn now.

Climbing the stairs easilly, Hermione moved silently down the hall to the room Harry shared with Ron. She would just wake Harry, leave Ron to him. She was still terrified of him, knew he was still angry at what she'd hidden from him, yet George had known about. She winced slightly, knowing she had been in the wrong. He and Harry meant the world to her, and she had kept something important from them. Shaking her head decisively, she inched the door open. She would not let guilt eat at her. She would not let Ronald Weasley's insane jealousy ruin her life.

She stopped short, frowning slightly as she saw Harry sitting up in bed, staring at the wall blankly. "Harry?" she asked softly, her voice low though she knew Ron wouldn't wake if a ghoul landed in his bedroom. Stepping forward, as he showed no response at her words, she gently touched his shoulder. She was unprepared for Harry's reaction, his movements a blur until she was on her back, staring wide-eyed up at him.

His features were different, hewn with weariness and pain and a violence that she had never seen there before. His eyes were dark, tortured as he stared down at her. "Hermione," he breathed, not moving. Her slender body was pinned under his, and it felt good. Her lips trembled up into a small smile as she stared up at him, her chocolate eyes almost black in the shadows of the dark room.

Harry lifted his hand, brushing her hair back from her face. His hand lingered, gently cupping her cheek. He watched as her lips parted slightly, her breath coming out in an odd little pant that he found exceedingly attractive. His thumb stopped traching her cheek, sliding down to rest beside her lips.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, her eyes closing as he bent forward, brushing his lips gently against her own.

Floor boards down the hall creaked, and they broke apart, both panting softly. Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed and wary, and Harry couldn't help but feel the bubbling of pure... pure _rightness _that had flowed through him as Hermione had been beneath him, watching him. And the splurge of more that had gone through him at the mere brush of lips.

"Breakfast," she whispered, then bolted for the door. Harry stared after her, frowning. She was the light that pushed all the shadows away. Without her near, they crashed back in, suffocating him. Rubbing a hand over his face, he stood and got ready for the day.


	6. Diagon Alley

_The Meaning of Love_

_Diagon Alley_

_Winds of Autumn_

Her lips haunted him. From the moment she fled the room until, he was sure, he tasted them again and took his fill, her lips would haunt him. Ginny's couldn't compare. Hermione's were soft, pillowy, sweet and addicting and purely innocent. Ginny's were soft, but not as sweet, usually taking control and leading him, leaving him to feel like less than a man. He hadn't meant to kiss her. Merlin knew, he valued their friendship more than making a nervous attempt to further something that he was quite sure wasn't there. But he had kissed her, and there was no way to go back now and change that, even though he wished he could have had more time.

Trudging down the stairs slowly, he almost chickened out, too afraid to face his tiny, pregnant best friend. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with him now. Maybe she would be angry about what had happened. He swallowed thickly, running a hand over his face as he stepped into the kitchen.

Hermione was sitting quietly at the table, her gaze directed out the window. Molly hovered around, putting the finishing touches on breakfast. Harry's heart squeezed at the thoughtful, scared look on Hermione's face. He shouldn't have kissed her. Period. End of story. It was wrong, and it was his fault. He was with Ginny. He should have been the stronger part. He had pinned her and initiated the kiss.

Wincing as he made his way to the table to sit, he pulled a few slices of toast toward himself. Harry glanced at Hermione again. She was lost in her own world, her brow furrowed ever so slightly in thought. He'd definately rocked her just as much as he had rocked himself. And all he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms, kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until she melted in his arms and kissed him back. He swallowed, looking away. Not the right thoughts. Not right at all.

"Good morning, Harry!" Molly said cheerfully, setting more food in front of him. "I do hope you two have a good time today. See that Hermione gets some things for herself, will you?"

Harry nodded, offering a smile. "Of course, Molly," he said, finishing his toast. Hermione's food was nearly untouched, and worry spiked through him. "Mione? You should eat something," he said, his brow furrowed with friendly command.

Hermione nodded, picking up her toast and nibbling on it. She felt sick, her stomach rolling and bile rising in her throat. Harry had kissed her, and she had liked it. That tiny kiss could be counted as cheating, especially since she knew Ginny would never understand. Harry had just reacted, had been lost in the darkness of his memories and Hermione had been there to pull him out. Right? She wouldn't let herself believe otherwise. That was the way it had to be.

Finishing her toast, she smiled at Harry. "I'm full. Come on. Lets get an early start," she said, rising and hugging Molly before heading into the living room to floo to Grimmauld Place. They would go there, get an idea of what to do, and then go shopping. It would be a long, complicated process, but Hermione looked forward to it.

Harry stood after her, glancing at the nearly still full plate of food that Hermione had left behind. She was nervous, all right. Just like he was. He didn't want the kiss to change anything, yet it had. Something had happened inside him. Something had blossomed, and kept growing every time he looked into her huge, world-weary eyes. She'd grown up quickly in the past year, and Harry hated the way she was so tense now. He sighed, following her to the fireplace and through it.

Grimmauld was just as they had left it; full of old, dark things and Mrs. Black's screaming portrait on the wall. She woke the instant Hermione's feet touched the floor, and she winced, pressing her hands over her ears. It was a horrible screaching-- worse than Banshees.

"Shut up!" Harry roared as he flooed right behind her. The screaming stopped for a moment and Harry marched around Hermione to jerk the curtain back over her portrait. The screaming stopped now, and Hermione tiptoed toward the kitchen, taking a seat and waiting for Harry to join her. Kreatcher had been given a short vacation, told to go find a way to remove the portrait by Harry so he and Hermione could, basically, destroy the Black House and recreate it into something Harry.

"Gryffindor colors and Quidditch themes," Hermione murmured suddenly. Golds and scarletts; moving players on the walls; Quidditch sets in the kitchen; enchanted snitches, bludgers, quaffles and broomsticks. It was perfect. And bookshelves lining the wall in the study for muggle literature as well as Wizard literature, though the majority of the space would no doubt be taken up by Quidditch books. She was out of her seat, pacing and thinking when Harry came back.

Seeing the delicate brow furrowed in thought, Harry stopped at the door, leaning a shoulder against the jam as he watched her. Her hands had unconciously slid to cup her belly, her hair swirling around her face as she moved in an almost agitated way. Her steps were brisk, efficient, the type of pacing he'd seen her slip into so often at Hogwarts. He smiled slightly, then stood straight and cleared his throat. Bad Harry.

"Do you have an idea?" he asked, giving her one of his grins. Boyish and charming at the same time, yet this one was warmed by something more, something neither of them wanted to delve into at the moment. Hermione stiffened slightly, then smiled back.

"Quidditch and Gryffindor colors," she announced, gesturing, organizing thoughts in her head as she did when she had an epifany and had to analyze everything.

Harry thought a moment, then nodded. They were a perfect combination, both of which he loved dearly and would remind him of Hogwarts, the only other home he'd ever known. "Sounds great. Ready to go shopping?" he asked, watching a slight smile form on her face. She wasn't a shopping fanatic, but every so often, she did enjoy an outing.

Surprisingly, to the both of them, the day turned out joyful with no awkward reminders of the kiss as their barriers melted and they enjoyed the chance to laugh and bask in the sunlight and the sun above them. It was nice to go out, free of the threat of Voldemort, and just enjoy not worrying.

Harry found himself watching Hermione more often as the day wore on, however. He tried to stop, but the happy sparkle in her eyes as she shopped for the new decor in his home was hard to ignore. She was trying her hardest to find the perfect things to make Grimmauld Place a home he wanted to go back to every day, and she took her time studying each piece. Sometimes, she'd decide something would work, and when they got to the counter to pay, she'd change her mind and put it back. But her determination and her careful evaluation of each piece and how they all worked together told Harry how much him being at home in his Godfather's old house meant to her.

Ginny had never offered, had never given a thought to the old place. Somehow, she'd just always assumed that he would buy a new house, and that they'd live happilly ever after. Harry had just never given a second thought to it, because deep inside, he hadn't thought he needed to worry that far ahead. He hadn't believed he would make it that far. But he had. He was still alive, and Voldemort was dead. And Hermione was making it her mission to make his house liveable, and comfortable for him. And that just made him want to gather her tiny body up against his and hold her tight, to fight all the demons and the troubles he knew would come.

The baby she carried was a Malfoy, and Draco and his mother would want it. It wouldn't matter that it was a Mudblood offspring-- it was Lucius' child. It was an heir to the Malfoy name. It would give Narcissa a heart attack to think of a Mudblood and bloodtraitors raising it. They might be able to keep the pregnancy a secret for a little bit, but not for that long. If one of the Death Eaters that had watched hadn't already told Narcissa or Draco.

Quietly, they deposited the house purchases back at one of the rooms in Grimmauld, then flooed back to the Burrow. Hermione had broken down and purchased some baby things, and even some clothes for the upcoming months. She would have to charm her robes when they went back to school, but Harry knew she could do it without too much trouble. He left her in Molly's capable hands when they got back and, having seen Ginny playing Quidditch in the backyard with the others, Harry went to find somewhere to think. He needed the solitude for the moment.

Thoughts of Hermione and Ginny were flooding him, making him almost crazy. He loved Ginny! He did! So, why was his mind betraying him, sneaking in fantasies of Hermione making dinner in their home, a raven haired baby on her hip with his eyes and her smile? It was madness. Sheer, utter madness. Wasn't it?


	7. Gryffindor Princess

_Meaning of Love_

_Gryffindor Princess_

_  
WInds of Autumn_

AN: Sorry for the super long delay, you guys. My brother fried our old computer, and its been hell getting a new one. Money problems, work, being 17, and desperate for time away from the family has made writing super... well, hard. I do hope to start writing more again, and I even have another plot idea. This idea, however, centers around Fred and Hermione. Grins Enjoy.

Ginny considered herself a prideful, confident girl. She had no reason to doubt her attractiveness, in her own mind or in reality, for she'd had her fare share of flings before becoming serious with Harry. But as the summer progressed, she was starting to do just that. Harry was spending more time with Hermione, even if it was on redecorating that blasted house of his. He had the money, why couldn't he just buy a new house? There was no doubt that anything he bought would be better than the ragged, run-down old Black House, Grimmauld Place. She shuddered just thinking about it.

If it made her a bad girlfriend, then it did. Not everyone could deal with things such as Grimmaul Place as easilly as Gryffindor Princess Hermione Granger could. The thought made her seethe, and from that point on, Ginny had made it a point to always be involved. She didn't care that Hermione looked more and more dragged down. She didn't care that Harry too seemed more put out by her constant involvement. She didn't care that even Ron, as dense as her darling brother could be at times, had asked her quietly if she was becoming a little too obsessive. She wasn't. Refused to accept it.

Refused to accept that Harry was slowly slipping away from her.

Just a year ago, when she had still been stung over his chivalrous action of breaking up with her to protect her, she'd know that eventually they would get back together and be together always. She wasn't too sure what had changed since then, though it was right in front of her. Granger. Yes, Granger. It was no longer Hermione, or even Mione. Now the curly haired genious was her worst enemy, though Ginny continued the charade of their semi-friendship. _Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. _

Sitting outside on a glorious sunny day, Ginny turned her head to see George escorting Hermione back from her most recent appointment at St. Mungos. The evil beast that she was coming to recognize reared its head, a half snarl coming to her pretty lips before she could stop herself. She immediately shoved it away, watching curiously as the two drifted closely together, a soft smile on Hermione's features and a mischievious grin on George's. Perhaps there would be a way to keep Harry and Hermione away from each other, after all.

Harry sat in his room at the Burrow, staring at the wall unseeingly. The redecoration on Grimmauld had started out as a good idea, but lately, he wasn't so sure. Hermione and Ginny stuck in the house with him, intruding on the alone time that he and Hermoine had come to enjoy. They were both driving him mad. He couldn't stand much more of it, and had told both of them that for the remainder of the summer, redecorating the house was off limits. Mrs. Weasley could pick it up during the school year for something to do, since she had none of her babies at home to worry over. But he simply could not be put through another tense day of them together in the same room with him.

He shuddered lightly, remembering the slightly disappointed look in Hermione's eyes, quickly hidden but not quickly enough, when Ginny had joined him the first time. She had been wonderful, though, welcoming Ginny warmly and explaining her vision for Grimmauld Place. Ginny had seemed polite enough, doing what Hermione wanted and sticking close to Harry at the same time. It was insane.

So he had taken to avoiding Hermione, leaving her in George's capable hands. It was the only thing he saw that he could do without driving himself up a wall and hurting Ginny. It hurt, but he saw no other way. He couldn't salvage the relationship with his best friend without severing the one with his girlfriend.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door before it was pushed open. He looked up to see his red haired girlfriend enter, watching him curiously. "Harry, love? Are you all right? You've been awfully quiet today," she said softly, perching gently on the edge of the bed, leaving a bit of space between them.

He nodded, giving her a grin. "I'm fine. Just needed some time alone, you know?" Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Good. I was worried. Feel up to a game of Quidditch?" she asked, a teasing challenge in her voice. Harry brightened instantly, grabbing his broom and racing her to the field.

Cold eyes bored into the quaking form in front of him. Interesting. So his father's closest acquaintences hadn't been lying after all. The question now was what to do about it. His mother would be interested in the news. Waving a hand, Draco dismissed the quaking nurse from St. Mungos, watching in mild amusement as the young man quickly apparated away, almost splinching himself in the process. Had it been another time, Draco surely would have taken glee from the man's obvious nervousness. His mind was on other things at the moment, though. His mind worked with cold precision, so starkly conniving in his brilliance that even Granger would have been jealous of him.

He continued to sit for a few more minutes before lurching into motion, Apparating to his family mansion almost as soon as he'd been in a verticle position to do so. He landed in Narcissa's living room, surprising his mother and earning a gasp from her before she realized who it was.

"Draco, must you do that?" she scolded, her dark delicate brow furrowed in annoyance with him.

"I have news, Mother. She is pregnant." He smirked at the reaction his mother gave. She had loved Lucius, no matter how horridly he had treated her. But, she had fallen into the role of Malfoy long ago, and was no longer the innocent, glowing girl of her youth from before Lucius Malfoy had corrupted her. She had done her best to instill strict morals and values into her son, but in the end, the only thing that had remained was his devotion and love to his mother, the only person to ever love him in return.

"That Mudblood bitch!" she screached, standing up immediately and falling into pacing. "And damn that man for being a pig!" Draco crossed his arms, leaning against the fireplace, and watching her in mild amusement as she continued on her rant. It took nearly ten minutes before she had calmed and retook her seat, looking at him expectantly.

"Well, Draco? What do you propose we do?" she asked, her dark eyes watching her son.

"We're going to wait, Mother." He smirked. "We're going to wait until that filthy Mudblood thinks that she is safe. And when they get careless, that bastard child is ours."

A malicious smirk spread across his mothers features, and she nodded. "Wonderful. Now, go clean up. Pansy and her mother are joining us for dinner."

Brilliant.

Hermione beamed at George as they sat across from each other, laboring over baby books and highlighting anything that would be helpful in the upcoming months. Of course, being George Weasley, he simply had to crack jokes. For his part, George couldn't help himself. He simply hated seeing Hermione so serious and dejected, as she had been for the past few days. He'd seen it, the way she lit up when she was with Harry. Of course, he wasn't hoping that Harry saw it and broke his little sister's heart, but he didn't want Hermione to be miserable, either. It was quite the situation, and George Weasley wished once more that his twin brother was there. To share in the complexity and somehow get Hermione to smile just a bit more often.

Shaking her head, pushing her curls behind her ears, Hermione ducked her head and returned to persuing the written words in front of her. Her wand passed as a muggle highlighter, making the words she wanted to study more stand out brightly so they would be easilly found again. George was following the same example, commenting now and again just to stir conversation in the room.

Once, George looked up to comment on something he'd read, and stopped. Hermione was reading, her lip pulled between her teeth, a glowing look in her eyes as she read about the development of the child that grew inside her body. While she wasn't thrilled that it was Malfoy's child, it was a child, innocent and shaped by the world around them as they grew older. And that had to be what George respected the most about her.

Until this summer, they hadn't spent much time together. Until the Final Battle, they'd never been seperated from those closest to them. They'd never needed each other. But now they did. And George honestly couldn't say if he was sad about it. Well, except for the loss of Fred, he knew now that there was no way he could possibly loose Hermione too. It would absolutely destroy him. He stayed quiet, struggling internally, not entirely sure how he would react if he and Fred had been in reverse positions. To him, Hermione had taken a place in his heart that was as identical to Fred's as anyone would ever get. Would he be angry if the situation was reversed, and Hermione had taken his place in Fred's heart?

No. He wouldn't. He would be relieved that his twin had found someone.

He smiled in relief, slowly lowering his eyes back to the book in front of him and continuing on with his reading.


	8. Decisions

AN: It has come to my attention through quite a few reviews that everyone thinks Harry should outright tell Hermione and Ginny both how he feels. Well, sorry everyone, but why he isn't going to will be revealed in this chapter. As the author of this FANFICTION, how I see things is how they will be written. If you don't like it, be welcome not to read it.

_The Meaning of Love_

_Decisions_

_Winds of Autumn_

The bland happenings of being Headmistress of Hogwarts during the summertime was just starting to wear on her. She rather liked the loud, boisterous happenings of the many students in the halls during the school term. She smiled fondly, thinking about all the years that she'd taught, all the beautiful young minds that she had helped shape for the future. Teaching was, in her opinion, the greatest responsibility and honor apart from being a parent.

With piles of parchment in front of her, lesson plans that needed to be looked over and amended according to the recent changes in Wizarding Law Cirriculum, Minerva simply, for the second time in her life, could not concentrate on the work laid out for her. Her mind was elsewhere entirely, dwelling on the most brilliant witch to grace Hogwarts since Helga Hufflepuff herself. Something warned her that the brilliant girls safetey was in grave danger, that the surreal image of safety that she had surrounded herself with was about to burst.

Her intuition could not have been more right, as moments later, Professor Sprout arrived. "Minerva, there is a Healer Botts here to see you. I get the impression that it is important."

Minerva nodded, sitting up straighter and shifting parchment on her desk. "Send the Healer in," she said softly, patting the strands of fallen hair back into the smooth bun she wore. She stood as the door opened once again, a squat man entering and nervously twisiting his robes with his hands.

"Healer Botts," she aknowledged with a tilt of her head. "Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable." As the man moved forward and took his seat, Minerva took hers also. Healer Botts had been a great help to the Order during the war, and still helped them in their endeavor to reform the crestfallen Wizarding world.

"Minerva," he aknowledged in return, taking his seat. "Its about the Granger girl. The Malfoy's know."

Minerva stared at the squat man, unsure if she could trust his judgement, and positive that she couldn't take the chance not to. Hermione was a special girl, and having just recently come to terms with the innocent baby growing inside of her, and willing to raise it as if it had been conceived in love and not hatred, Minerva had no choice but to heed the words of the man in front of her.

"You're positive?" she demanded, the famous 'look' she was known for giving students coming out.

"I'm sure, Headmistress. Young Healer Hungfried confessed to me that the Malfoy's bribed the information out of him." The man bowed his head, wishing that Voldemort had been dealt with long ago, with his first run-in with the Boy-Who-Lived. Such wishes weren't to be heeded, however, as there was no changing over seventeen years ago. A time turner, perhaps, but what good would it do?

"Thank you for your information, Healer Botts. Feel free to stay and enjoy dinner," she offered, standing quickly. The man nodded, and she led him from her office, turning him into the capable hands of Professor Sprout. Her robes billowed behind her in a fashion quite remniscent of Snape, fierce determination on her worn face as she moved down the familiar halls. Only one thing pressed on her mind; Warn Hermione.

The moment she was outside the grounds, she Apparated to the Burrow.

George slowly shifted the blankets back, tucking Hermione's feet beneath and pulling the blanket up over her. She was sleeping soundly, a red mark on her cheek from having fallen asleep in a book. He smiled as she turned onto her side, hugging a pillow and making soft sounds as she settled. He had come to care about her a great deal, though the feelings were far from romantic. He was going to be there for her, no matter what. She deserved that.

Leaning forward, he brushed her hair back from her face, making sure the blanket was snug around her before he withdrew from the room. Somehow, he had grown closer to Hermione than to his own little sister, and he felt bad for not feeling guilty. Ginny was a wonder, but she was much too manipulative for her own good. He could see it, even if others couldn't.

Sighing, he trudged slowly down to the kitchen, pulling up a chair and watching his mother putts around in her natural element. Something was happening tonight, he deducted, judging by the amount of food that she was making. "Mum? Who's coming over tonight?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh! George! You scared me!" she cried, whirling around and pressing her hand to her throat. Taking a few breaths, she steadied herself and returned to work. "Well, I invited Andromeda and Ted over, and they're bringing little Teddy."

George stared at her a moment, then nodded. Hermione would love Teddy, and maybe the company would help ease the tension that had began to be tangible in the Burrow. Ginny no longer hid her glares from everyone, just from Molly and Harry. Hermione kept her eyes glued to her plate, scarfed down her food, and left without much conversation. She spent more time with George and Molly, hardly noticing as time passed. Ron had started bringing Luna over, and though the whimsical blonde wanted to speak with Hermione, Ron's grudge held her back.

In George's opinion, it was all pathetic. He saw it all, much more than anyone would ever have given him credit for. But he and Fred had always been that way, which was why their pranks had always been brilliant. He knew that Harry had it for Hermione, that Hermione had it for him, and Ginny was fighting a futile fight to keep them apart. Ron wasn't as angry anymore because he had Luna, though he still thought he was. It was all just a big mess.

"Do you think thats a good idea, mum? You know how Gin is to 'Mione anymore, and she isn't going to feel comfortable with little Teddy while Ginny's trying to play Godmother for Harry." He watched his mother's back straighten, then her shoulders slump. She knew just as well as he did, the only difference was she refused to acknowledge it or respond to it.

"I don't know what else to do, George. Ginvera is my daughter, and Hermione is like a daughter to me. I just can't turn my back on my own daughter when I know loosing Harry will crush her," she said softly, not turning to look at him. George stood, walking over to her and taking her in his arms.

Ever since finding Hermione, they had both been open and honest with each other, more so than they'd been with anyone else in their lives. "Shush, mum. Everything will be all right," he soothed gently. "I'll take her and Ron to the shop with me, all right?" It was the perfect solution, a way to leave Harry and Hermione together with the young boy. Maybe Harry would finally do something about what was so obvious.

Molly nodded, lifting her head and turning to finish her preparing. "Yes, thats a wonderful idea. Tell them you want to spend time with them, they should understand." And with that, it was settled. By now, with Hermione almost three months pregnant, and school starting soon, word would soon make its way to the Malfoy's. She needed someone there to protect her, to be with her at every moment. It couldn't be George, and it wouldn't be Ron, so he was electing Harry, whether he knew it or not.

Smiling to himself, the red-headed genius walked out into the backyard to catch Ginny from her flying with Harry and Ron. Luna sat under a tree, watching them with a whistful expression.

Luna's arm shot out to grab George's wrist before he could open his mouth, and she smiled. "I can invite them to dinner, if it would be easier. You can come too," she offered.

As always, she gave George goose-bumps with her scary accuracy. She _had _to be psychic in some way. There was no other explanation. "Thanks, but I'm dragging them to the shop with me. We can bond," he said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Turning to the flying figures, he called out and watched as they hesitantly landed, coming forward to greet him.

Harry's eyes were glowing, his face slightly flushed and his hair disheveled. Ginny was in much the same way, though she leaned toward Harry without him realizing it, silently laying her claim though there was no reason to. George certainly didn't want the boy. He shuddered at the thought.

"Ron, Ginny, I was wondering if you two would come with me to the Shop tonight. I'd like to spend some quality time with you two, and I don't want to go back alone for as long as I can help it," he explained. Ginny made a soft noise, then launched herself forward and into her brother's arms. George caught her, holding her close and closing her eyes. It may have come in use as an excuse, but it was the truth, too. Inhaling the scent of her hair, he closed his eyes too, glad to hug someone.

"Sure," Ron said, stepping forward and squeezing George's shoulder. "We'll come. Harry'll be all right here with Mum and Hermione, right Harry?"

Harry nodded, feeling excitement bubble up in his gut. He was free to be alone with Hermione, for the first time in weeks. No Ginny to ruin it, no Ron to glare at Mione, and most of all, no sneakiness. "Yeah, I'll be all right. I'm sure I'll be ahead of school work," he teased with a grin, making Ron chuckle and Ginny roll her eyes.

"Come on Ron, lets go get ready," she said, authority in her voice. Ron and George shook their heads; so much like Mum already.

Harry trudged along after them next to George, his broom over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but George beat him to it.

"Mum invited Andromeda, Ted, and little Teddy over for dinner tonight. We both figured that neither of them wanted to be bothered with little Teddy running about," George said softly, watching Harry from the corner of his eye.

"Teddy's coming?" he asked, excitement in his voice. Even better! He would see Hermione with a child, a dark haired child, and he could really imagine her with his baby now!

George smiled. "Sure is. Have fun, all right?" he asked as they reached the kitchen and slipped inside. Ginny and Ron were waiting for him near the fireplace.

Harry nodded. "You got it," he said with a grin, waving as Ginny stepped into the fireplace, followed by Ron and a waving George.

Because of the strict anti-apparation spells that had been set up around the house of anyone connected to the Order after the fall of Voldemort to protect them from retailiation from ex-Death Eaters, Minerva was only able to apparate within two miles of the Burrow. The floo networks were much the same, fireplaces connected specifically to other fireplaces that were chosen by the Head of House. The rest of the distance, she had to travel by foot. She didn't mind, it gave her time to think. She walked briskly, her robes pulled closely around her, one hand wrapped around the grip of her wand.

She could warn Molly and Arthur, or she could worry Hermione. The second didn't seem like such a great option, not when Hermione was still so early in her pregnancy. The Headmistress paused, indecision on her face as she skimmed the possibilities, much like Ms. Granger herself, weighing her options.

In the end, the choice was clear, and she grimly set forward to see to it.

AN: Sorry for my earlier outburst... Please review, make the ill feel better!


	9. The Kiss

AN: I appologize for some of the confusion in the end of the last chapter. I was sick, and had too much cold medicine and not enough sleep. Special thanks to for holding all the information one could possibly need on Harry Potter.

_The Meaning of Love_

_The Kiss_

_Winds of Autumn_

To say that Molly was surprised to see Minerva was an understatement. To say she was taken aback by the look on the woman's face... It was disconcerting how the recently appointed Headmistress could so easilly read her prior students. Minerva offered the plump, red haired woman a half smile, hoping to calm her somewhat before she delivered the news. Entering the kitchen, filled with the delicious smells of Molly's cooking, Minerva glanced about.

"Hermione?" she asked softly, hoping that the girl was elsewhere at the moment.

"Upstairs. Why--"

"Shh, Molly. I have important news for you." Glancing around, the older woman cast a silencing charm on the kitchen. She took a seat, waiting until Molly had taken one also. She leaned forward, determination in her aging gaze. "The Malfoy's know, Molly. I don't want to alarm Hermione just yet, but you and Arthur should know. And possibly Potter and George. She'll need constant protection." Her mind whirled, searching for some way to keep a constant watch on Hermione without locking her up or putting an Auror on her tail.

Sighing, she shook her head. She would have to consult Albus over this. Perhaps something she should have done before she left. He would offer round-about logic, but offer hints that would stimulate her brain.

Molly patted her hand, smiling slightly. "We'll think of something," she murmured. "Stay for dinner. I can't send you back that long way without putting something in your stomach."

Minerva nodded, settling in to watch Molly putter around the kitchen making final preparations for dinner, her mind a messy jumble as she tried to figure out a solution. Poor Hermione.

Andromeda and Ted arrived as the sun set, craddling little Teddy and grinning widely. He had recently shown signs of his mothers ability, a metamorphmagus, and was constantly changing his appearance. At present, he sported Andromeda's black hair and dark eyes, alight with good humor as he gurgled and slobered on his fist. When they entered the Burrow's wide yard, Teddy squealed as he saw Harry, his arms flailing as he made his demand known.

Harry grinned, setting down the stack of plates on the table and loping forward to scoop his Godson out of Andromeda's arms. "Hey Teddy!" he greeted, kissing his rosey cheek noisilly. Teddy giggled, grabbing Harry's hair. For a split second, a look of rabid concentration came over his young face, then disappeared as black, messy hair and green eyes became his new appearance. Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he held Teddy. "Come on then, I want you to meet Hermione."

Hermione, who had taken over setting the table when Harry had gone to Teddy, looked up as she heard her name. Her chocolate brown eyes widened as she saw the little Harry look-alike, but she smiled shyly as Harry drew nearer. Her gaze never left the little boy.

"Teddy, this is Hermione," Harry said, grinning at Hermione.

"Myknee," Teddy pronounced, grinning widely. He reached his arms out toward Hermione. She gasped, shaking her head and taking a step back. The action seemed to confuse Teddy, who tilted his head and frowned at her. "Mymy," he repeated, choosing a shortened version in his own language. Hermione's heart melted, and she stepped forward. Harry made it seem so natural to be holding him. Would she know what to do?

"All right," she murmured, hesitantly reaching out. Awkwardly lifting Teddy out of Harry's arms, she settled the young toddler on her hip, her gaze riveted to his face as he stared back at her. He grinned, a tumble of brown curls sprouting from his skull.

"Mymy!" he repeated joyously, smacking his hand to her cheek and holding it there. Hermione grinned, kissing his forehead. It was natural, afterall. With the child growing steadilly in her womb, it was a gift to hold a child in her arms, giving her something real to look forward to. It would be worth it all, she realized in awe, drifting to the garden with Teddy.

Shaking his head, Harry grinned. He assured Andromeda that Teddy would be fine with Hermione-- afterall, she was the brightest witch of the age. He knew no one who knew more spells. As he finished setting the table, his gaze drifted to Hermione and Teddy, his heart warming as he watched them play. She would be a wonderful mother.

"Harry, be a dear and go tell Hermione that dinner is ready?" Molly asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts. Harry nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading toward the garden. He could hear Hermione's laugh, mixed with the innocent, childish sound of Teddy's. It felt good to hear her laugh again. Better than it should feel. He cleared his throat, leaning against a tree a few feet away as he watched. Hermione was on her knees, bent over Teddy and pressing kisses to his face and tickling his sides.

Teddy screamed with laughter, his green eyes sparkling with tears of joy as he wriggled in Hermione's grasp. Harry smiled, then froze. Teddy had his green eyes and Hermione's hair. The sight lodged itself into his brain, evolving and growing until he saw a whole scene; _Hermione was standing in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, cooking breakfast with a toddler on her hip. He entered slowly, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Smiling brilliantly, Hermione turned and bid him good morning, setting the spatula down and caressing the enormous buldge of her stomach. The toddler on her hip cried 'Daddy' and reached for him, Hermione's eyes staring back at him from a face that resembled his, beneath a mop of messy black hair. _

Harry jerked, feeling guilty. But not that guilty. He should be imagining Ginny, not Hermione. He shook his head, shoving a hand through his hair. "Dinner's ready," he forced out, turning on his heel and nearly running away. It was wrong. All wrong.

Hermione frowned, lifting her head to watch Harry walk away. Her attention was pulled back to Teddy as he grabbed a handful of her hair, tugging. She grinned, lifting his shirt and giving him a raspberry that got him squealing again. She moved to her feet, bending to swing him up again and settle him in her arms. Teddy grinned, watching her as her feet walked them back to the others.

Minerva smiled upon seeing them, deciding that maybe things would be all right afterall.

Dinner went well, with Hermione joining in the conversation again. Teddy wasn't willing to be parted from her, so he sat on her lap as she ate and fed him. Harry was torn by the sight, knowing now that Ginny would never live up to Hermione in his dreams. His best friend, beautiful and perfect, innocent and brilliant-- who'd always been there for him and had suffered for her loyalty. Ginny was a crush, something that would last because everyone expected it to. But who would be there for Hermione? Who would be there to hold her hand when her pregnancy was so far along that she couldn't see her feet? Who would be there to coach her through labor and help her care for her baby?

He would.

He would be there for her until she no longer wanted him, until their skin wrinkled and they needed help to get from place to place. He would be there for her when they were on their death beds. He stared at her, at the healthy flush that was under her peaches and cream skin, at the obvious happiness in her gaze that had been absent for so long. He had missed it, he realized. He had missed the excited sparkle in her brown eyes.

He swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze to his plate. Somehow, even in the trance that he'd been in, he'd managed to eat every bite of food on his plate. He grinned slightly, refilling his plate. No one could pass up Molly's cooking, not paying attention or otherwise. He dug in, determined to push Hermione from his mind. It worked, for about two minutes.

The conversation around him went in one ear and out the other, not really registering as he shot glances at Hermione and Teddy. She was a natural, glowing with the love she already felt for the boy. Harry was happy for her.

Molly saw the change in Harry, as did Minerva. Neither commented on it-- it was a change that Harry would have to deal with in his own time. Molly lamented for the pain it would cause Ginny, though, even as she rejoiced for the happiness she knew Hermione would find. The girl deserved it, and more.

"More potatoes, Hermione?" Molly inquired, smiling. Teddy was covered in them, and had transfered some into Hermione's curls. She laughed as Hermione's eyes widened and she shook her head frantically, trying to wipe the potatoes from Teddy's hands and face. Molly chuckled, watching fondly.

"I'm sorry, Molly, but we really have to be going now. We'll have to do this again sometime. I had a wonderful time. And I can see Teddy did too," Andromeda said, smiling softly at the scene before her. She shook her head, knowing Teddy would need a bath.

"Oh, no problem Andromeda. You're welcome any time. And Teddy too. He's a joy," Molly beamed, turning her gaze to Teddy as he eyed his grandmother, snuggling into Hermione's breast.

"Mymy!" he cried, fisting his hands in her shirt.

"Teddy, you have to go with your Grandma," Harry started patiently. Teddy shook his head, hiding his face in Hermione's chest. Hemrione smiled, rubbing a hand gently down his back.

"How about I come see you? Hmm? Would you like that, Teddy?" she asked softly, brushing a kiss against his temple.

Teddy lifted his head, his eyes studying her face before he reluctantly nodded.

"There we go. Come on, you need a bath before you go to sleep," Hermione continued, kissing his forehead as she stood and carried him around the table to Andromeda. The older woman smiled, taking Teddy into her arms. "You have a natural gift, Hermione. You'll be a wonderful mother. Feel free to come by and see Teddy any time." Kissing Hermione's forehead, her and Ted started up the hill with Teddy.

Hermione smiled, hugging her waist and watching Teddy disappear into the night with his grandparents. As Molly and Minerva retired to the kitchen to continue their earlier conversation, Harry approached Hermione nervously. He didn't remember ever being so nervous in his life. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets and waiting until Hermione turned her attention to him. He nearly swallowed his tongue. The light from the house played upon her face, her soft smile and the loving look in her eyes making her the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

He moved, falling back into the trance he'd been in earlier. Her trance. He reached for her, gripping her arms gently as he drew her toward him. He could feel the gently sloping curve of her growing belly, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't knowledgeable. He cupped her cheek, his thumb feathering along the line of her cheek bone as he leaned forward. Her eyes widened slightly, though not in alarm, as she watched him. Their eyes locked, a mutual awareness of what was going to happen before it happened.

Their lips met, softly at first. Then, again, more desperate. Harry slid a hand into Hermione's hair, tilting her head back as his tongue slid between her lips, finding hers, luring it into a dance. Hermione's eyes darkened, fluttered closed as she melted against him. Her arms went around him, clinging to him as he devoured her mouth. She had never felt like this. Had never felt this sense of connection, of wholeness.

She was the first to pull away, her chest heaving as she drew breath in. They stood, staring at each other, locked in the treacherous embrace that was destroying the bounds of friendship that had been their relationship for seven years. Slowly, Hermione drew away, keeping his gaze until she was a good distance away. Then she turned, waving her wand to send the dishes and the food into the kitchen. She followed, bidding Molly and Minerva good night as she hurried up to George's room to hide.

What had Harry done? He'd awakened her to the old heartache, the feelings that she had burried when she'd realized there would never be a chance. She curled up on George's bed, hugging his pillow close. She had just started to put it behind her, to welcome the drastic change in her life, and Harry had ruined it all. He had confused her, made her wonder if there was a chance after all.


	10. The Encounter

AN: I'm sorry it took so long to get this out. I had SERIOUS writers block, and between school and home, and the CNA class I'm taking, things have been extra hectic. I'm hoping to get back into the groove and update more often.

_The Encounter_

_The Meaning of Love_

_Winds of Autumn_

Hermione sat up, determination etched on her face. She was done. She wouldn't hide and cry anymore. Harry was confused, and acting on those feelings. That didn't mean that she had to suffer for him to sift through his conflicting emotions. He loved Ginny-- the whole bloody world knew it-- so why was she letting herself stay? Why was she letting herself hope? It was ridiculous. Sitting up, she stood, staying still a moment to regain her balance, before grabbing her wand. Hermione went to George's desk, pulling out a sheet of parchment. Dipping the quill into the ink, she bent over the letter.

_Dear Minerva,_

_Recent events have come to pass that I cannot bear to deal with. I hope that you will consider letting a student move into the castle early. I would be deeply in your debt._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

Studying the letter, she sighed and nodded. It would have to do. Hearing shuffling feet in the hallway, she frowned. It had to be Harry. There was no one else there that would hesitate and move on, then hesitate further up the hall and take a few steps. Folding the parchment, Hermione straightened her shoulders and moved to the door. Opening it, she hurried out into the hallway and down to the kitchen, successfully avoiding Harry. She didn't want to see him right now. Couldn't bear it. She shuddered. What he must think of her... It was painful.

Pausing in the doorway of the kitchen, she smiled at Molly and Minerva, wringing the parchment in her hands. It seemed like she'd walked in during the middle of a private discussion.

"Yes, Hermione?" Molly asked, not concerned in the least to have been interrupted.

"I... Um... Minerva? Here," she mumbled, pushing the note forward into the woman's hands and backing away quickly. Her hands went to her belly on their own accord, completely unconcious. Minerva noticed, but frowned at the sheet of rolled parchment in her hands. Unrolling the parchment, her eyes scanned the words and she glanced up at Hermione, giving her a slight nod.

"Of course. Whenever you wish to do so, your quarters will be ready," she said, watching Hermione smile and turn before passing the parchment to Molly.

Molly's eyes scanned the words, a soft sigh leaving her lips. "And they looked so promising," she sighed. "Poor dears. Well, they'll be close at Hogwarts, and she'll be safe from the Malfoys there." Minerva nodded her agreement, a small frown pulling at the corners of her lips as she thought.

"What's going on?" Molly and Minerva looked up, watching the thunderous look of helplessness on Harry's face. Slowly, Minerva stood up and faced him. He had grown so much, but not nearly enough.

"Hermione has asked to move to her Quarters at Hogwarts a little early, Harry," she said as gently as she could. His face hardened, his jaw tightening until he looked... dangerous.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, turning on his heel and hurrying up to the bedroom he knew she would be in. Packing. He nearly snarled. She was _his!_ How dare she think that she could run away from what was happening. It was beautiful. Just a little bitty seed, one that needed nurturing and care to grow. And she was going to throw it away and run like a coward.

He found her just where he knew he would, in the room she shared with Ginny, packing furiously. She was so busy she didn't even hear him come in behind her. Harry closed the door softly, muttering a locking charm on it as he added a silencer charm as well. He folded his arms, his jaw clenched tightly as he leaned back against the door.

"Hermione," he said finally, watching her back stiffen. She didn't turn around though. Her right arm lifted, disappearing as she did something, then fell back to her side. She gathered a breath, then turned. Harry felt like he'd been slugged in the gut. Her eyes glittered with pain, red and puffy from the tears she'd been in the middle of shedding. His anger was gone just as swiftly as it had come, and he moved forward to take her into his arms.

"No!" she cried, stepping back until she was against the wall. "Don't, Harry. I... I can't do this right now." Her voice wavered, thin and ringing with internal pain. Harry's anger flared again, and before he knew it, he was in front of her, tossing her wand over his shoulder and ducking his head to ravage her mouth. Her tiny fists beat against his chest, almost completely unnoticed by him. Her fists slid to his shoulders, then to his neck where her fingers tangled in his hair. Hermione arched against him, knowing it was wrong, but not caring. The way he was kissing her made her think that he was serious, that he did want something.

Harry slowly pulled back, his eyes dark as he looked at Hermione's upturned face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and moist, her thick lashes fluttering as she opened her eyes. Black, full of swirling passion. "More," she rasped softly, leaning up and sliding her tongue along her lips eagerly. He growled low in his throat, his hands sliding down to her rear. Harry's lips caught her earlobe as he lifted her, his hips pinning her to the wall as her legs circled his waist. A breathy moan caught in her throat at the way he touched her, her back arching. Colors blurred, swirling in his line of vision as the beautiful creature before him moaned and ached for his touch. He didn't think, only reacted to the raging feeling pulsing through his body. The fierce need that demanded he take what was his and give everything he had in return.

"You're mine, 'Mione," he growled. "Do you understand?" He pulled back, waiting until her eyes opened and focused on him. They cleared, a dawning horror setting in as she realized what had happened. She shoved at his chest.

"No, Harry. Ginny's yours. I'm noones." She had wiggled away from him, rolling along the floor to grab her wand before coming up on her knees a few feet away from him. "Just.... Let me go...." Secretely, she ached for him to argue. For him to fight for her. But the animal look in his eyes was slowly disappearing. He wasn't going to fight. Her shoulders drooped and she stood, not even looking at him anymore. She turned back to her packing.

And cried out as she was suddenly laying on her back on the bed, Harry leaning over her with burning eyes. "You are _mine,_" he growled, pronunciating every word slowly. "I don't want Ginny. I want you. I need you," he said, his voice softening as his hand lifted to her cheek. Her skin was so soft. So beautiful. "Please, Mione."

Hermione stared up at him, aching to believe him. Even if what he said wasn't true, she could let herself believe for one night. She nodded slowly, watching Harry as his head lowered and his lips ghosted over hers. She moaned softly, her arms sliding around his neck. Yes, this was what she wanted. All of it. Harry.

His fingertips slid down the curve of her neck, pulling her shirt to the side as his lips followed. He loved the goosebumps and little noises that Hermione was making. They drove him crazy, made him think he was the only man alive in the world. He was the only man, right now in this moment. Hermione slid between reality and dreams, hoping that it was real and hoping that it wasn't. If it was, there would be so many repurcussions, and if it wasn't, she would go crazy.

Small feminine hands bunched in the material of Harry's shirt, knuckles white as the writhing woman beneath him struggled to retain some semblance of control. He smirked. Couldn't have that. He wanted her beyond control, beyond the boundried that kept her so stoic and rigid. Catching the skin covering the small, perfect clavicle he sucked slowly, gently, luring her outside herself toward the wild, passionate woman he'd seen on occassion. She was the only one who could steer him so quickly to and away from the black anger. Briefly in the back of his mind he wondered at the danger of it, but hands catching at his hair pushed the thought away.

"Mione," he whispered, the breath of his words rising goosebumps on her shoulder. Large hands slid up her sides, pushing her shirt up as they went, callouses tickling and stimulating the emerging passion in her. She was so small, even with her growing stomach, that he pushed himself a bit further away from her, desperately trying not to crush her. But she would have none of it, clawing at his shoulders as she pressed up into him, unwilling to be seperated by any distance.

"Hermione?! Are you in there?"

They stiffened, reality crashing in. George's voice. Ron and Ginny were with him. If he was back, they were too. Harry growled softly, crashing his mouth to hers for one last kiss before he pulled away. Hermione curled onto her side in response as his warmth left her. The flush on Harry's face and the dangerous look in his eyes could easilly be mistaken for anger, so he didn't hesitate in lifting the charms and stepping out to face the Weasley Twin.

George took a step back, eyes widening at the Harry he'd never encountered before. "Er... Is Hermione in there?" he asked, shifting to look past Harry into Ginny's room. Seeing Hermione curled up on her side, back facing the door, shoulders shaking silently as if she was crying, George shoved past Harry. He didn't care if he got hexed for it. Hermione was his friend.

Harry merely sneered in response, slamming the door behind him and storming down the hallway to the room he slept in. Ron was inside. The red head looked up as Harry stormed in, but wisely didn't comment as the angry man grabbed his broom and took off out the window. He was curious, though, what had gotten his best mate's hackles up.


	11. Proposal

AN: Sorry it was short. But I thought it was a good place to end it. :) You'll just have to wait and see what happens next.

_Proposal_

_The Meaning of Love_

_Winds of Autumn_

George moved to Hermione's side, resting a friendly hand on her shoulder. She jerked, a hiccup spilling forth as she turned and lunged at him. Catching the small woman easilly, George merely held her and let her tears soak his shirt. Whatever had made Harry so angry, he had no right to do this to Hermione. She was his best mate. Bloody hell, she'd been there for the git even when Ron hadn't been. When she stopped crying, he looked around and his brow furrowed. She'd been packing? And Harry had left in a storm of anger.... She was leaving.

"Where you going?" he asked softly, rubbing her back gently.

Slowly, Hermione lifted her head and looked at him. "I can't stay, George. Its... Its too hard." He'd never now her to give up so easilly, or at all for that matter. But matters of the heart were more painful and much more crippling than anything else she'd dealt with. Even more so than Voldemort had been.

He sighed, nodding in defeat. "I can't come with you." He pulled her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. "But you'd better write me every day, or I'll come after you," he said, trying to coax a laugh from her. It worked-- she gave a soft laugh, sniffling afterward.

"Is it so wrong that I want him this much?" she asked, eyes shining as she looked up at him, begging for an answer that was honest. He cupped her cheek, thumbing her tears away, and kissed her forehead.

"No, Hermione. Whats wrong is him." George took a deep breath, watching her. "Marry me, Hermione." He pressed a finger to her lips to cut off her immediate protests, shoving his other hand through his hair nervously. "I know we're not in love, but we do love each other. You need someone to stand with you and protect you when you can't protect yourself-- an impossible time, I know. But I want to be there for you. The fireworks might not go off right away, or ever, but I'll be a father for your baby and a best friend that you never have to be seperated from...." He sighed, looking at her. "I love you Hermione, not like you love Harry, but I do love you. You kept me going when I lost Fred, and I'd love to help you. Bloody hell, I need to because I love you." He slowly removed his finger from her lips, watching her intently.

Her lips pursed as she thought. Did she want to move on? Was there any chance at all that she could get over Harry given time? Would he ever leave Ginny? She didn't know. "I.... I need to think about it, George. Its a big step," she said softly, taking his hand in hers and squeezing gently. "I really appreciate your offer. Though why you chose me..." she murmured, watching him from beneath her lashes, hoping to inspire a laugh from him. A grudging smile came to his face. Touching his cheek, she waited until he was looking at her again. "If I said yes, it would be unfair to you. I could never love you the way you deserve. I would pine for someone else, and you would know it. I'm sorry, George. I.... I can't."

George nodded slowly. "I understand. But... Keep it in mind, all right?" He waved his wand, the rest of her things flying into her trunk neatly. Standing, he shrunk her trunk for her. "Be safe," he added, kissing her hair before he left. So maybe he'd been angry at Harry for no reason... Harry hadn't done that to Hermione, their emotions had. He sighed, heading back to his own room.

The door clicked locked behind him and his wand flew from his hand. George lifted bewhildered eyes to his brother. "Ron? What are you doing?" he asked wearily.

"Whats going on between them?" he asked, his eyes hard. "I deserve to know." He was their bloody best mate! What the hell was going on? Even if he'd been angry at Hermione, he still cared about her.

George dropped down onto the bed beside Ron, staring down at his hands. "Hermione is in love with him, and.... Its not my place to tell you...." He stood.

"And you're in love with her?" Ron asked, watching his older brother as he froze. Ron was right, he realized. He didn't know when it had happened, but it had. Sure as hell, it had. He'd been so sure he'd only cared for her as an older brother, as a best friend, but Hermione Granger was amazing. You couldn't help it, he supposed.

"Yeah.... I guess I am.... I asked her to marry me, you know. She said no of course, but I had to at least ask." Ron nodded in understanding.

"Hermione is a great girl. Its easy, isn't it?" Both boys sat on the bed, staring down at their hands and becoming lost in their thoughts of the bushy haired eleven-year-old that had blossomed into the amazing woman she was now.

Cool air whipped past his face, nearly knocking his glasses off, as he pushed the Firebolt harder. He had to get away. He could still see the tears in her eyes, the flush of pleasure on her cheeks, the trembling of her lips as she sighed--- NO! He loved Ginny. He did. But he loved Hermione too. Maybe more. Okay, so he loved Hermione more than his own life. But what could he do about it? Nothing. If he left Ginny, the whole Weasley family would be breathing down his neck.

He paused in midair, the broom hovering to support his weight. His thoughts were as turbulant as a tsunami. He couldn't seem to find his bearings amidst his own mind. Ginny. Hermione. Teddy and Hermione. Would Ginny be as good with children? No, he'd seen her around Teddy.

Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He supposed he knew what he had to do. He needed to choose. But who?

Looking down at the streets below, misted from the clouds he hovered in, he grinned unconciously at seeing Grimmauld Place. His home. Landing quickly, he slid inside, inhaling the scent. Strawberries. Hermione. He groaned. He couldn't seem to get away from her! And the memories. The heat.... Dropping his head against the wall, he sighed. He didn't want to hurt either of them, but he knew what he had to do. Setting his broom in the corner, Harry drifted through the house, seeing Hermione everywhere. She had worked so hard to make his home inhabitable. Her touch was everywhere-- the books ordered alphabetically on the shelves, the central theme of Gryffindor and Hogwarts everywhere (soft but blunt, easy on the eyes, but completely Harry), Quidditch memorabelia and so much more that made him feel.... completely comfortable. Like this was home. And it was.

But it was empty without Hermione.

Growling, he clenched his fist at his side. Without a second thought, he strode back to the corner, grabbing his broom and heading for the back door. He set off at once, flying even faster than he had before. He had to talk to Ginny.


	12. A Knight

AN: Okay, so I lied. I don't think Ginny will be pairing with anyone in this fic but Crazy. HAHA! I hate her with a passion, couldn't ya tell? Hehe. My next update will be a while in comming. My birthday is the 25th, and Spring Break is all mine! Ha!

So... I got this finished a little later than I had originally hoped.... I hope you like it.

_The Meaning of Love_

_A Knight _

_Winds of Autumn_

Hogwarts looked better than it ever had-- tombstones had been set up as a monument around Dumbledore's stone casket, the castle itself had been recreated, and the memory of what had been accomplished on this treasured ground would always be remembered. For Hermione, it carried both sweet and bitter memories. Her first friendships had started here, she'd finally fit in somewhere (as much as she could fit in, anyway) and she'd experienced so many things.

Minerva had already taken her things up to the castle, leaving Hermione to wander the deserted grounds in the darkness. She could see Hagrid's hut, the light blazing in the window and the smell of smoke from his chimney. The big, friendly giant that loved everyone. Well, with the exception of Malfoys. But she couldn't hold that against him-- she wasn't fond of them either. But it wasn't in her nature to hate, even as much as she disliked that family.

Hugging her waist, she hunched her shoulders as she set forward toward the hut. She missed the simple times, back when all they had to worry about was passing Snape's class and making it through the year without ending up in the Hospital Wing. Of course, things had always seemed to appear in their paths-- thanks to Harry's stout meddling-- but she didn't mind. It was those things that had brought them so close together.

Lifting her face to the breeze, Hermione pressed forward, listening to the noises of nature around her. The breeze whispered through the trees of the forbidden forest, through the grass and over the water of the Great Lake. She smiled, the noises soothing her as she paused outside Hagrid's hut to enjoy it.

"'Ermione?" Her eyes fluttered open to see Hagrid in front of her, a huge grin on his face. She smiled back.

"Hello Hagrid. Is it all right if I come in?" she asked, dropping a hand to pet Fang as he pushed against her leg, pressing his nose lightly to her stomach and whining for a pet.

Hagrid's large head dipped in a nod and he held the door open for her. He closed it behind her, lumbering down into his large chair and looking across at her. "What brings ya here?" he asked curiously.

Hermione smiled as she curled up in the much too large chair. "I was lonely, and I missed you." She shrugged a shoulder, looking down at the table. Her smile slipped. "I need help," she admitted, looking back up at him. "I've been so weak lately, and I'm done with it. I won't cry anymore." Her voice was hard, ringing with determination. Hagrid bit back a grin. Even if he thought she and Harry would be perfect together, she wasn't willing to put up with his crap, and that was exactly what both of them needed.

"How can I help?" he asked.

Ginny leaned back against the headboard of her bed, frowning. Why hadn't it worked? She'd been so sure it had been brewed right. So, why was George not going after Hermione as he should be, leaving Harry to come back to her? It had been a flawless plan. She'd been so positive that it would work.

Pushing off her bed, she started pacing, unable to sit still. Something was wrong. Maybe the love potion hadn't been brewed as perfectly as she had thought. She wasn't the best at potions, after all. Clenching her jaw, the red head left her room, swiftly making her way to Ron's room. Knocking, she didn't give any time to answer as she barged in.

Two pairs of eyes looked up at her, one of them hard and the other exasperated. Ron and Harry. She opened her mouth like a fish out of water, about to explain her sudden entrance, when Harry looked at Ron and tilted his head toward the door. Ron nodded, standing and slipping past Ginny.

Whatever was about to happen in that room, Ron wanted completely clear of it. The look in Harry's eyes when he'd come back had been brutal, and he'd demanded to know if Ron would take offense to dumping Ginny to look after Hermione. He'd had to hold back a smile. Finally, he was realizing who he really wanted and what games Ginny was playing. Well, maybe not that, but all the same, it was about time. Which gave him a brilliant idea. He needed to apologize to his best mate. He'd been a down right rotten git to her.

Going down to the living room, he grabbed a hand full of floo powder and tossed it into the flames. "Hogwarts," he said clearly.

Harry stared at Ginny, wondering what had changed so much. Once, she'd made him happy. Once, she'd been his hope for the future. But now, he couldn't understand why he'd put up with her meddling and conniving for so long. "Sit," he said softly, firmly. Ginny's eyes widened, but she sat obediently. She'd heard him use that tone of voice before, but it had never been directed at her.

His eyes pinned her to the spot. They were calm, but underlaying that was a myriad of conflicting emotions. She swallowed, not wanting it to be over like this. He was hers, damnit! He couldn't be doing this.

But he was.

"Ginny. Its over." He was so bloody calm about it. Her vision blurred, but she saw him stand and leave. It was over? Just like that? No. She wouldn't let it be. She would get him back, if it was the last thing she did. Clenching her jaw, something in the back of her mind tingled, trying to rush forward. Hermione's pregnancy.... A Malfoy baby. What would Malfoy give to have Hermione right now? Hm... She grinned. Oh, Harry would be hers all right. And he would regret leaving her.

Hermione stretched in the large bed, staring up at the scarlett covered canopy in thought. She had heard from George that Harry had broken it off with Ginny the night before, but he still hadn't tried to contact her. Which both annoyed her and confused her. If what he had said about his feelings for her were true, why hadn't he come to talk to her? Sighing, Hermione sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was time to get up.

Walking the stone floors of the castle, hands on her belly as she headed outside for her favorite reading spot, Hermione thoughts were centered on the situation concerning Harry and herself. Was it even possible to build a relationship romantically off of one that had been purely friendship for so long? Dare she further risk her friendship with him? Was it worth it? No. She refused to sacrifice something so important to her.

"Hermione?" The voice came from behind her. How had someone snuck up on her?

Turning, her throat tightened. "Harry," she said cooly, crossing her arms tighter over her stomach in an attempt to protect her growing child against someone that would never hurt her or her child. He noticed, and hurt flashed in his emerald eyes. It took all she had to keep from flinching at the hurt she'd put there.

"I was wondering if we could talk.... " His hand lifted, fingers dragging through messy hair. Her heart ached. Nodding, not trusting herself to answer, Hermione turned and led the way outside to her favorite spot. Sitting carefully, back straight, hands folded in her lap, she watched Harry expectantly.

He watched back, drowning in her eyes. They were so large, swallowing him whole. Jerking his gaze away, he dropped down beside her, toying with a blade of grass he'd ripped from the ground. "I made a mistake," he started, hoping she wouldn't interrupt. This was hard enough to do without her questions or her wide eyes peering at him hopefully. "I clung to Ginny because she was my first love. Everyone expected us to be together, so we were. But... She's not who I want. Her hair used to make me melt, her eyes used to completely disarm me. But now I dream about chocolate eyes." He slid his gaze over to her, seeing the way her head was leaned back against the tree, her slender jaw clenched tightly as she listened to his words. Was that a glimmer of tears he saw in her lashes? Surely not. He took a deep breath and plunged on. "I know I hurt you, but please, let me make it up to you." Even he heard the pleading in his voice.

Harry turned, sitting in front of her, taking her delicate hands in his own Quidditch roughened ones. She was so beautiful. "Please, Hermione. I'll do anything."

Her eyes opened, dark swirling brown nearly black in intensity. Her pain shot through him, burning and gripping in a crippling way. "All right."

His heart felt lighter. He would never hurt her again.

Hermione watched the silly grin spread across Harry's face, feeling the emotions sweep through her. He had begged for forgiveness, for a way to make it better. For a chance. Her thoughts were cut short as he scooped her up in his arms, heading toward the castle once more. She squealed in protest, beating against his chest. "Harry James Potter! You let me down this instant!" she cried, beating against his chest.

His chuckle rumbled through her, since she was pressed so tightly against him. Yet, and closely as he held her, it was gently. Cherishing. And then his lips were on hers, gentle and promising, urging her to open her lips but not demanding. Her fingers delved into his hair, pulling him closer, as if they both needed this to live. And they did. At least, Hermione did. She felt complete-- something she hadn't even noticed until he had come to her. Her eyes slid closed, a soft sigh leaving her.

Pulling back, Harry looked down at her, eyes glittering. "I'm sorry, Mione. I'll never hurt you again," he swore softly, pressing another kiss to her forehead. Hermione smiled softly, touching his cheek.

"I know." She kissed him softly. "Now, I wish to return to my room. Is the Knight carrying me, or shall I walk?" she asked teasingly. Harry chuckled, cradling her closer to his chest as he set off toward the castle once more.


	13. Chapter 13

The sun had long dipped behind the horizon, casting a shadowy curtain along the room. It was still warm, but not as warm as it had been hours earlier. The covers were tossed aside, the form in the bed tossing restlessly. Soft murmurs of distress left parted lips, a light sheen of sweat covering ivory skin. Usually Hermione took the dreamless draught, but in the excitement of Harry's visit and their long talk, she had forgotten. And was paying for it by reliving Lucius Malfoy's brutal assault detail by detail. She couldn't leave, was somehow trapped. She felt dirty, even in the semi-reality of her dreams.

Lucius' face hovered above her, grey eyes icy with enjoyment and glee. A face-- a mask of hate, of long years of nurting his dislike of her, projecting his passion of dislike by taking something special from her. She shuddered, refusing to scream.

His features changed. Long blonde hair seemed to shrink, grow shorter up into his skull at a rapid rate as the color darkened to coal black. Pale skin darkened to a healthy tan. The expressions stayed the same, steel grey eyes morphing into emerald green.

Harry.

xxxxxxxx

Hermione jerked upright in bed, coated in sweat, a scream lodged in her tight throat. Lucius Malfoy-- Harry Potter. Had her insecurities somehow transcended into her nightmares? The feeling that she wasn't good enough for Harry had never left her, and were stronger than ever now. But to dream of him taking Lucius' place? She shuddered, pushing herself out of bed and shivering as the cool night air hit her wet skin.

It made sense that her mind would transform the image. Her fear of Harry hurting her was so strong, almost overruling her nature to forgive and move on. But to see him change like that? For him to take the shape of the person-- the man-- she feared above all else?

Turning on the shower, she held her wrist under the tap, needing it boiling hot. Her wild hair was stuck to her, her heart still racing. That couldn't be good for her baby, could it? She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths, counting to ten slowly before she stripped and climbed into the hot stream of water. She could analyze the occurance later. She didn't feel like it now. It was too fresh in her mind. Shivering even under the hot spray, Hermione quickly went through the motions of cleaning herself before climbing out.

Wrapped in a too large robe, Hermione took her seat near the window. Her hands settled over her growing stomach as she stared out the window, watching the night play over the grounds of Hogwarts. Slowly, she drifted back to sleep.

XXXXXXX

Draco Malfoy looked up from his desk as the small owl pecked the window. He'd never seen this owl before. Run down, old. Poor thing. With a sneer, he opened the window to allow it entry. It took a moment before it stuck its foot out toward him. A letter. Taking it, he dismissed the owl, opening the parchment and scanning the words inside.

"_I can give you Hermione Granger."_

Interesting. It seemed that Golden Boy had finally ditched the Weaslette for the Bookworm. He grinned. Perfect. If they got Granger, the Malfoy in her belly would be theirs. She was only a few months along, but they could lock her up until she gave birth. Or transfer the fetus to his mother. She would love that.

Reclaiming his seat, Draco leaned back, considering his options.

A slow triumphant smirk spread across his pale features. Oh yes. "MOTHER!" he yelled, standing to receive her when she entered. She entered with a scowl for his treatment of her, though it quickly faded into curiosity at his look.

"Yes, Draco?" she asked, smoothing her robes as she drifted to his seat and perched delicately on it. He held the parchment out to her, watching her slender brow raise as she took it. A devious smile spread across her features. "What are you planning, son?"

Draco laughed. "A transfer," he murmured, moving to the desk to scribble a reply to the Weaslette.

A bright smile lit Narcissa's face and she clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, Draco!" Another baby! She had always wanted more than just Draco, but Lucius had never touched her after Draco had been born. He hadn't hesitated to touch the Mudblood though. She scowled. That baby would be hers. Standing, she drifted quietly over to Draco and looked down at his reply.

_"Meet me. Malfoy Manor. Floo if you can. If not, apparate. The gate will let you inside."_

She smiled. Her son. Taking his face in her hands, she saw the bored, humoring look on his features. Oh yes, he was humoring her. He thought that she went through spouts of wanting to be an affectionate mother. That wasn't it at all. If she was truely as affectionate as she wished to be with her son, he would surely turn his back on her just as his father had. She couldn't help herself, he was hers. He was a part of her. Her child. Was it so wrong to love him, to want to show him that love? In the Malfoy house, it was. But this child, created by her husband in the Mudbloods body, would know love.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry walked through the halls of Hogwarts, his destination Hermione's room. There was a small boquet of flowers in his grip, a huge smile on his face. He wanted to ask her out, on an official date. He wanted her to be his, officially. Not just a crush. If she was ready. He prayed silently that she was. He could wait, sure, but really he had waited long enough to man up.

He knocked lightly on the door and stepped in, about to greet her when he saw her bundled up in a robe asleep in the chair. He smiled, setting the flowers down and moving to her side. "Hermione," he said softly, resting a hand on her arm and shaking. She jerked awake, her hand slamming into his nose and sending him sprawling on his back. A look of horror dawned on her face as she realized what had happened and she pushed up, rushing to his side.

"Harry! Oh Merlin.... I'm so sorry." She huffed, pushing her hair back and grabbing his wand from his pocket to heal his bleeding nose.

Harry chuckled slightly, taking her wrist in his hand when the bleeding stopped. "Its ok. I startled you. It happens." He shifted to stand, bringing her up as well. He caught her face, frowning as he noticed the circles under her eyes. "You didn't sleep."

It was a statement, standing between them and waiting to be discussed or brushed aside. Hermione shifted slightly.

"Restless," she lied, looking away and spotting the flowers. She swallowed. "Harry? Are those for me?" she asked softly, trying not to let the tremor into her voice.

"Yes. Flowers for the most beautiful woman I know." He shifted, waiting for her response. Would she like them? She wasn't really a flowers type of girl. Oh crap.

She turned to him with tears in her eyes, her hands clasped together. "Oh Harry!" she cried before launching at him and hugging him tightly around his neck. "Thank you. They're beautiful." She pulled away quickly, scooping the flowers up and holding them to her nose. They smelled sweet, fresh. Probably from a garden somewhere. She turned and busied herself looking for a vase.

Harry grinned, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "I was wondering if you would like to go on a date some time. Just as. As a couple." He watched her closely, noticing the slight faulter in her step. She turned and smiled brightly.

"How about tonight?" she countered. Harry grinned. It was like it had been when they were young. Free. Boundless. Happy. Hermione's heart melted and she moved to hug him. He hugged her back.

"Works for me beautiful. How about we snuggle on the couch and get you some sleep?" he suggested, wanting nothing more than to just hold her right now. Fireworks exploded everytime they ventured into kissing, and that was not what he wanted this early. Okay, so he was a male, and that was on his mind. But he wouldn't ruin this. He felt the nod against his chest and drew her to the couch, taking his seat and pulling her down to cuddle against him. He smiled as she fit against him. He loved her.


End file.
